For most of my life, I did not know my brother well. We were raised in different households, had
vastly different experiences growing up, and were separated by more than the
usual number of years between siblings. Still,
he was my brother and I loved him. My
earliest memories of him are of him and his young family living in the
apartment above our home, and the thought of my dad banging on the ceiling with
a broom handle and my brother banging back as their way of saying “goodnight”
still makes me smile. Soon after, they
moved to the country (the suburbs today) and I moved to a different state and
we rarely saw each other after that. Several
years later, he moved back home and, during a summer-long visit, I read every
comic in his vast collection and would eagerly await the sound of his big blue
motorcycle roaring up the driveway so that we could discuss at length the issue
I had just finished. I was especially
amazed at how he would stand outside during thunderstorms and watch the
lightning like he was some sort of invincible super hero. My brother was thoroughly cool, strong as an
ox, had an awesome perm (hey, it was THE style), and had amazing eyes (it was
actually a condition that made his eyes jitter back and forth, but I thought it
was NEAT). Yes, he was MY big brother
and I fairly idolized him.
Then came the stupidity.
After I moved back home as a preteen, and for reasons I
still do not completely understand, there was a huge stinking riff in our
family and my brother fell on the outs with most of the rest of us. At the time, I was still young-ish and
immature and chose sides rather than be at peace with everyone. As a result, I did not talk with him for
many, many years. Even worse, after he
was hired as the custodian at my church unbeknownst to me, we avoided each
other like the plague and made excuses to never be around each other. To this day, I regret that I wouldn’t even acknowledge
that my brother worked there. It was
harsh and uncomfortable and remarkably stupid and moronical, but it was our
reality nevertheless. It cost us what
could have been many good years, years that we will never get back.
Thankfully, change happened.
Years after the riff and during a time when God was just starting to
deal with me and the unforgiveness I was riddled with, He spoke to me through
scripture one evening by hitting me in the head with Matthew 5:23-24 which
states, “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar
and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you,
leave your gift there in
front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer
your gift.” God broke through
years of stubbornness and misplaced feelings that night, and the very next day
I left a message for my brother at work saying we needed to talk. A few days later, we sat together in his
office, man to man, brother to brother, and forgave each other for those barren
years when we didn’t talk. Years of ice
melted in that moment, and that day I gained my brother back and he his.
Just a few years ago, after having
reconciled with him and forming a tenuous yet pleasant relationship, I had the
unique opportunity to work with my brother as part of our church staff one
summer. For nearly three months, it
became my routine to go in early, fill my mug with steaming coffee, and just
stand in the hallway and talk with him.
We talked about politics, faith, family, science fiction, and a thousand
other subjects, and then we’d refill our mugs and talk about a thousand more. It was a summer of bonding with one of my
siblings the likes of which I had never known before and have never experienced
since. Finally, as a man in my late
thirties, I was getting to really know the brother I had idolized eons before
as a kid. It was an amazing time that I
daresay I’ll never forget and am very, very thankful for.
Two years ago today, we lost my brother to
cancer. I sat by his bedside nearly
every day for his last two weeks, and I held his hand as he breathed his last. My sister-in-law tells me that he spoke
highly of me and loved me, and that is a treasure above measure. It was an honor to be with him, and I wouldn’t
have wanted to be anywhere else.
I stopped by his grave this evening, laid a
white carnation on his headstone, and slowly drank a cup of coffee. He would have appreciated that.
Life is short, sometimes agonizingly so, and
none of us are perfect in how we wind our way through its twists and
turns. Sometimes you have amazing people
in your life that you lose. Sometimes,
if you’re very fortunate, you find them again and any loss after that you know
to be temporary at best. I lost my big
brother and then found him again, and someday we’ll reunite in the Great
Beyond. Until that time, I’m left with
this knowledge that my brother helped plant in my heart: be at peace with
everyone, cherish those you love, and be very thankful for those that love you.
