I can’t tell you when it started or what I did to warrant it because I do not know. Yet I always assumed I must have done something to initiate such disdain, such derision, and the tussling that frequently finished with me in bruises and tears, and him – indifferent, as he walked away, with only the occasional consequence.
The nasty jabs cut deeper than fists or kicks, and their scarring remains. Yet I loved my brother. I suppose I always will.
As an adult looking back, I tell myself it was the times – marriage by a different book, the sixties of cocktails and popping pills, an era of children seen and not heard – all of it exacerbated by some malignant wind in our hermetically sealed household. As for the toughness he acquired that turned tender briefly – when he had children – whatever gentleness opened once, it calcified with the years.
He closed me out.
Now he is an echo, an ache, a phantom limb.
* * *
Once I held my first son I knew with complete conviction that the love I felt was bigger, bolder, more bountiful than any I had experienced before.
Once I held my first son I cherished his father more and basked in his smile and his unabashed pride; I wanted for him, for myself, for my new child – a brother, a sister, a house full of brothers and sisters – the family I never had, the family my husband did have, the large and close-knit clan that fights of course, but stands together.
We started out on the same page, but I was older and the practicalities of pregnancy and then the demands of parenthood surprised us both; I bore a second son and desired a third but he did not, so we stopped at two, and I had to accept it.
My boys are a treasure so I cannot complain and life with its challenges has surely filled my cup, but at night in my dreams there is a third son, there is lingering and scuffling around the dining table, there are weeks with cousins and grandparents in a tiny house in the Midi, walks through brambles and brush with the collie on our heels, talks with a man whom I loved as a father.
In the morning when I wake, there are lights turned on.
* * *
My sons have known their competitive moments, their typical disputes, their tricks to subvert the other but never from a place of vicious intent.
Sibling rivalry was heated over chess, over scores on the latest video game or exam, on the tennis court where the “little” one quickly overcame the “big” one. There have been no fisticuffs, no abiding antagonism, no irreparable rifts – at least, not yet – and apparently with rivalry there has come respect. Their gifts are different as are their temperaments.
There are bonds in mischief I’ll never hear about, teachers they both scorn and admire, friends they share; bonds in memories from parents together and an intact marriage, and another history altogether – of a sorrowful divorce and the ways that it hurts, the life that has come after and the way it has strengthened them.
* * *
I bear no family backbone on which to rest, no resident structure on which to rely, no certainty of anything to do with the days ahead yet still, I face forward. I am envious of those with mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers to count on, just as I recognize there are also obligations and conflicts and loss; my own history has taught me as much.
My sons banter together, they laugh together, and occasionally I ask one to discuss an issue with his brother, or to watch out for him just as I did when they were boys. I remind them they are responsible for each other – for life.
* * *
At night when I dream my third son he is a baby and I swaddle him; he withdraws into the shadows of my personal mourning as I switch on lights and the day unfolds. I recreate the heartbeat of my elder sleeping against my chest, my younger curling into the crook of my arm, and I whisper for them to never know the cutting off of blood by blood, or the throbbing of the phantom limb.
Beautifully written. I have two sons so I can totally understand. Didn’t want the third child though or girls. 🙂
I too have two sons, but I will never know if I wanted another because our marriage ended shortly after my second one was born. My ex did go on to have a third son, and I will be honest in saying there are times that I have been envious of that. However, after more than 13 years, I’ve come to be at peace with my life and know that fate has determined that two was my limit. I love my boys fiercely and, despite the seemingly constant battles in our household, know that they love and care for each other. Guess I’ve done an OK job.
It’s funny Marie – I realize now that I could have – perhaps should have – titled this musing “Of Brothers And Futures.” My own way of focusing on my boys, rather than the loss of my sibling from my life? That peace you mention. Peace with your life. However have you managed to reach it?
I am most intrigued by the idea that your boys have memories of mischief and other aspects of their lives that they share between themselves alone. As I await the arrival of my second son I wonder what sort of relationship he’ll have with IEP and the other siblings we don’t yet know. Amazing to think about these little babies and toddler – who don’t yet have any existence outside of their parents – growing into little people whose lives are as multi-faceted as anyone else’s.
I have two sons and one daughter. In my family, I have two brothers. It’s the same breakdown across the sexes except I was the oldest and in my little family, my daughter’s nestled between the two.
I wonder all of the time what will happen. I have a wonderful relationship with one brother and a strange one with another. I always felt the boys were closer. I try and figure out how to encourage the three of mine to be close to each other and recognize the strengths they each possess so they don’t cast one out. We’ll see…
By the way, I tagged you in a meme I just did. I never do them but this one was interesting and I thought it’d be interesting to see you do your version. Hope you play along.
Thanks for this. Very moving. I too come from a family with some serious sibling issues and sadly, so far at least, my kids aren’t all that close which really kills me. It was the one thing I wanted for them more than anything. I guess there’s still time (they are only 10 and 7!) but I would so love for them to be best friends.
Delia Lloyd
http://www.realdelia.com
I hope that my kids will be able to be there for each other. Only time will tell I suppose, but I do think it’s interesting that kids may fight and fuss for years, but grow closer as they mature.
I am one of the lucky ones, I am still close and still have my one and only sibling and both parents around to love and we share the unconditional kind.
Although I do not understand those feelings first hand of not being close with family you describe, I realize how lucky I am.
But in the words you write about your sons – looking out for each other, I see you are beginning to build what I have known. It has to start somewhere.
Any chance the baby you dream of will come in way of a step child? foster child? or grand child? haha I love how you have taught your boys the unconditional love you craved in your own family. I wish for you some mending with your brother in this lifetime.
I adore my sister, though she left wounds deep too. Mostly without intent to harm, and certainly without foresight. We are close-ish, and yet miles and life choices separate us too. I struggle with that. But, I knew, my first girl needed a sister. And it’s amazing to see them develop their relationship. My husband is one of three, and those three have bonds and strife (as all with close relationships). One needed the other two desperately a few years ago. Having family to rely on is a gift. I hope I teach mine to love and care for each other, to respect their differences and enjoy their similarities.
My mom is one of three, though her elder brother died very young, leaving a phantom limb of sorts. And I know of a baby who comes in my dreams. I see him less these days. But I always wake unsettled.
This is a gorgeous piece. Truly.
@NAS – That third son was a child who almost was, but perhaps I would have dreamed him anyway.
@Kate – Thank you. This seems to me like a piece of writing in need of mucho editing, but the topic remains one that intrigues me. What makes some siblings close and others not?
So glad to hear of families in which the bonds are tight.
This one line got me: I remind them they are responsible for each other – for life.
I frequently remind my two daughters of the same thing.
Beautifully written. Filled with ache but beautiful.
Before I begin I want to tell you how beautiful your writing is. I shivered as I read through this account.
My family, in many ways, is tight yet our individual personalities, choices, and actions have often created divisions. Even with those moments, I have many memories of us pulling together to help a sibling or parent in need. I realize I am among the lucky: I have a large family abounding in love.
I believe closeness between siblings is correlated with parenting. If you teach your kids to love by example, they will reciprocate with you and with their siblings. That and maturity–my sisters and I fought hard when we were teens and now that we are older, we look out for each other. For instance, my sister’s fiancee recently broke off their engagement. It was tragic. Rather than falling into a deep hole, my sister went to my family for solace. And we provided what we could while knowing only time would heal the wounds.
As for my family, you well know my own desires to have many children. Brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, some desires face impediment, not because of situations but because of biology. Something I have learned through this experience is that my two littles–a boy and a girl–will learn to rely on each other as I have learned to rely on my own siblings through challenges. I teach them to not only be kind, but to respect, honor, serve, and protect each other.
You continue to inspire me Amber – in so many ways. Thank you for this lovely addition to the conversation.
Beautifully written. There is so much heart in this post. I could feel it between you and the bond that your sons share.
I think that many of us yearned for that third child. And many are fortunate enough to have three, or more. I think I can empathize with that sense of loss. But when I feel that I have lost something, I remind myself of how lucky I was to marry, and to have children, later than most — our circumstances dictate so much. And now that they are older, that twinge has become less frequent, and my times of gratitude more so. One of the benefits of aging, perhaps?
Yes, the twinge… 🙂 There are benefits to aging. Perhaps the twinge lessens as we get more tired, or – spice up our own (love) lives!
My MIL had three boys and told me to NEVER have an odd number of children. They gang up on each other. So, I figured: Two hands, two kids. It worked. As for that third son of your dreams, swaddled in a blanket…grandchildren are just that; Grand. You’ll get that third (grand)son some day. xoxo
I also have two sons…this is beautifully written. I like you want them to have a beautiful lifetime connection. Families are complicated at times, especially when they are large which mine is…I want for my children (as you do yours) all the wonders close family relationships offer.
I have four siblings but only enjoy and regularly spend time with one of them. I hope that my two are much closer than the five of us are, or have been over the years.
From my experience, the bonds between family must be nurtured and siblings must have respect for themselves and each other. If you’ve fostered that — which it sounds like you have — then the rest falls into place.
I hope your two will be close, Kelly. It’s a wonderful thing to see. Not necessarily doing everything together (I don’t think that’s always helpful) – but genuinely looking out for each other, respecting each other, and laughing together. Four siblings, Kelly! Wow! (Must have been a busy noisy household….)