Brother of My Heart

I always felt like Tommy was my brother.  Although 8 years younger than me, from the first day I met him, he reminded me of my older brother, Charlie.   Both men were gentle, loving, sweet, and non-judgmental.  Both had this understated, intelligent, marvelous sense of humor.  You’d have to listen and observe very carefully in order to catch the joke and see that special subdued grin.

Bob and I were lucky enough to see Tom one last time on Saturday afternoon when we stopped by his home on the way to 4PM Mass.   The door was wide open and his family was welcoming.   

My heart broke when I could clearly see that Tommy was just about ready to leave this earth.  

 I should have been consoling his ever faithful, loving wife, instead she was comforting me.  We asked each other, What will the earth be like without Tommy in it?   It was unimaginable. It was incomprehensible.  It was wrong.  

But when Mary added, “Tom is ready to go”, it gave me some measure of peace.     He had fought the good fight and now he was weary.

I tried to control my tears, I wiped my eyes and blew my nose and walked into the family room.     I went over to his chair and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.   “I love you Tommy”, was the truth that came out of my mouth. This was all I felt I could say.    Actually, it was all that really mattered. “I love you too, Mary Beth “, he said.

I sat quietly in a chair at his side and took his hand in mine.    He looked into my eyes and saw the sorrow there.   He responded to my unspoken communication and his last message to me was, “we’ll do our best”.     

Yes, Tommy, Dear Brother of my Heart, we’ll do our best and it will be enough.   

Tommy left the earth this morning, Monday, August 27, 2012.    But, have no fear, his spirit will be around forever helping us to do our best.

Follow Up to Yesterday's Blog

Thanks for the supportive responses to yesterday’s blog entry.  As you could tell I was feeling rather down and your support was very helpful and also gave me some food for thought.  Here are just two of the several responses I received. 

• “…. you are still you even if the "you" has changed."
• "None of us can be what we used to be. Life is not what it was yesterday. You can only be what you are today."

I guess that it would be a darn shame if I was the same person that I was 45 years ago.  We all need to grow and change otherwise we stagnate and die.  Possibly, certain people would prefer that we not grow since they feel that they no longer have a place in our lives.    I guess the people that really love us are happy to witness our growth and the changes that we have made. 

Life is Like a Spooky House

Do you ever feel like life is a bit like an old fashioned ride through a "Spooky House"?
The two-seater car was clanking along the tracks and the doors opened spontaneously to allow my cart to enter the dark and frightening emptiness.  I was an adolescent and this was the first time I had mustered enough courage to say “yes” to a ride through the dreaded amusement park attraction.  My cousin was sitting beside me as the tracks below us turned our car clanking around the bend, the last bit of sunlight at our backs.  My God, I thought, I simply can’t do this.
In a panic I jumped just as the doors were enveloping us.   I remember clearly that I caused quite uproar.  Everyone was screaming at me – the ride attendants and my Aunt and Uncle who had so generously treated me to a ticket. “You could have killed yourself, what were you thinking, what possessed you to do such a dangerous thing?!!” 
I remember feeling mixed emotions- embarrassment and shame yet, at the same time, great relief and thankfulness to be free from the unknown darkness that I had just escaped.  I remember thinking, I can master this another day, I’ll have this experience another time, another place.   
 I felt a little badly about leaving my cousin alone in the car, but then again she had been on this ride before and didn’t appear to be worried in the least.   She exited the ride none the worse for the wear making me feel all the more like a coward.
Lately, I am starting to feel more and more like I going through a “Spooky House” and there is no escaping the ride.  
There seems to be so much darkness and dread all around and I never know what is going to pop up in my face when I least expect it.   A beloved brother falls back in a chair and it kills him.  A dear friend sits dying in his favorite recliner as loved ones stand helplessly by.  I disappoint family and friends at every turn and I don’t even have the sunlight of understanding.   I’m criticized for not being “who I use to be” as if I have turned into some horrible ogre.   I don’t even have the comfort of my church anymore.  Oh sure, I still go on this part of “the ride” but as much as I would like to, and as much as I try, I can’t profess and support what I don’t believe in.   No, I’m not who I use to be and this is making ride all the more scary.  

The First Day - July 14, 2012

Bob & I meet Ana, Maria & Miguel at JFK airport at 5PM on Saturday, July 14, 2012.  After many hours of cramped air travel across the Atlantic, they were happy to touch down, and we were excited to have them all to ourselves for two whole weeks.   The kids were real troopers as we traveled by car for another 3 & ½ to 4 hours from JFK to our home in Latham.   After a brief stop for the world famous Happy Meal, we reached our final destination and our beds at somewhere between 3 to 4 AM Spanish time.
FYI - We first had the pleasure of meeting Ana one summer when she was a 15 year old Spanish Exchange student and now she was back for a visit with two of her three children.  Her youngest boy, Pablo, ( 6 years old) stayed home with Daddy, Juan Pedro, in Madrid.

Boys Will Be Boys

It was an interesting experience observing Miguel from Madrid, Spain (age 8) and Connor from Latham, NY (age 7).
Language did not seem to be a barrier to their communication  with each other and the fun they appeared to share during their two week visit together.    Years ago I swore that everything was based on environmental interactions with children (in the nurture versus nature debate)  but now I believe there is a basic, innate difference between boys and girls.   Miguel and Connor enjoyed roughhousing and created a game in the pool, "It's My House!" in which they attempted to remove each other from the inflatable boat and/or tube.  It seemed rather rough to me ( a female) but the boys just loved it and would continue on and on and on with this activity for what seemed like forever to me.   Miguel was sweet and generous with Connor who is use to being the "King of the Hill" here at our house.  Connor enjoyed his time with his new friend from Spain and rambled on rapidly in English without any worry that Miguel is a neophyte to the language.  They seemed very comfortable and relaxed with each other and it was great fun to sit back and watch them relate. 

I've Fallen in Love

I was backing the car out of the garage when the door from the kitchen flung open. Maria threw her little Miss Kitty bag over her shoulder as she signaled for me to wait.   A second later she was in the backseat directly behind me.  She surprised me when I turned around and asked her ,  "Is your Mama coming?" and she answered, "no".  
I was thrilled to think she would be comfortable enough to leave her Mom and come for a ride with me all by herself.    She is only 10 years old, speaks primarily Spanish, and this was her very first trip to the USA.    
I backed out of the garage and onto the street and away we went - destination the "Redbox".   She hummed a song to herself on the way up to the store and I asked her if there was anything like "Redbox" in Spain.  She said there isn't, but by the time we reached the big red vending machine, she and I had decided it would be a fantastic idea  for her to open a Spanish "Bluebox" or a machine similar to "Redbox" with some other creative name in her own home city of Madrid.  Really, doesn't every city need such a wonderful DVD dispensing machine?
We rushed to get up there by 9PM  in order to return the movie, "War Horse" .  When we jumped out of the car we could feel the "Redbox" calling and Maria and I knew we just had to answer.   Using both English and then Spanish, we pensively searched the colorful collection of available DVDs on the screen before us.  Maria settled on another horse-themed movie and we both felt happy and satisfied that we were not going back home empty-handed.
I felt much more than that.  I felt the realization that I had fallen in love with this special little girl who until less than two weeks before had been a virtual stranger to me.   
Mary Beth