Brothers

This is a reprint of a post I wrote on another blog shortly after my brother Paul’s funeral in November, 2009. I’m sharing it here because it’s one of my favorites, and the original blog has since been closed. Paul passed away two years ago today, on October 19, 2009. 

————————-

Yesterday was my brother’s funeral.
He was more than a decade older than me, so we didn’t see much of each other after he graduated from high school. We had different mothers, his having died when she was younger than I am now, which always scares me when I think about it. To be a mother and have to let go of your children when they are so young is terrifying. Both my father and my first two siblings lost their mothers at an early age. I feel fortunate I had my mother as long as I did, even though we had all expected her to be around for at least another 20 years.

But about my brother. I know little about him, really. He was dyslexic, had one kidney, and an assortment of health problems his entire life. He was born with a hole in his heart, and was one of the first babies successfully operated on to fix this. He had COPD but refused to quit smoking. And yet, unlike my parents whose bodies were too riddled with cancer to donate the organs they’d hoped would help others, some of my brother’s organs were able to be harvested for research and other medical programs.

He always helped those in need, regardless of how much or how little he had himself.

He used to put me up on his shoulders when I was little, and it terrified me being up so high. As an adult, I grew to be taller than him. When I saw him shortly before our dad’s death, he was in a wheelchair as he could barely walk. I felt as though I had run so far past him, I didn’t know him at all.

His funeral was beautiful. Of the three memorial services I’ve been to in the past year, not one has been sad or gloomy. The weather was clear, the trees bright with autumn foliage, the bouquets of flowers vibrant.

Not knowing my brother meant that I have sought brothers in my life for as long as I can remember. There are men whom I dearly love, who know my children, my favorite foods, my fears and my dreams. These are men who can tell me they love me without freaking out about it, because they mean it and there’s no fear attached to it. There’s no other obligation than to pick up the phone and listen to me laugh or cry when I need to, as I do for them. These are things my brother did not do for me, as I did not do for him. There was a disconnect that over the years we both took for granted.

After the funeral and a family lunch filled with laughter, I took my children shopping for winter clothes. My son hates shopping for clothes and my daughter hates listening to him whine about it. Maybe the stars aligned just right, maybe they were just happy being out of school for the day and well fed, but the two of them hit the sale rack at Macy’s and went crazy. I watched my gamer geek son who has worn the same boring outfits for MONTHS transform into a handsome kid who will break many a heart as he grows older. My daughter pointed to him as he stood in the dressing room doorway and said in exasperation “he’s cuter than me! That’s so not fair.” But as she’d been the one to dress him, there was a touch of pride in her voice.

My daughter knows her brother. She hates him, loves him, coddles him, fights with him, protects him, throws things at him. And I want this with all my heart, this connection between the two of them. I couldn’t stand to see them drift apart as my siblings and I have. As a single parent I understand the value of connection and how tenuous it can be between two people. Let them fight, let them rage, just let them be there for each other once I’m gone. That’s all I ask.

—————————–

In Loving Memory Paul Vincent Ziogas “Stogie” June 3, 1958 ~ Oct. 19, 2009 Remembering you today on your birthday and always. You had a generous, loving heart and you kept giving to others through your donations for their lives. With love, Ann, Sara, Carol, Cindy, Pete, Martha, David, Mark, Rosie, Michael, Michelle and your loving friends from Colorado.