Full Circle
I have two siblings, both of whom are substantially older than me: My sister is 11 years older, and my brother 16 years older. My brother was pretty much out of the house by the time I was born, and my sister by the time I was six or seven. I have always felt close to both of them, but I don't have many memories of us all together when I was young. When I was around thirteen both of them moved away from New York. My sister moved back about ten years later, so we have had a lot of time together as adults (okay, in case anyone does not know how old I am, that would be about 27 years ago that she moved back), but my brother was living on the West Coast until around three years ago. He came back here--well, we brought him back here--because he had had a stroke and could not live independently afterwards and there was no one to take care of him where he was living. I have written about my brother a lot here, starting with my very first post, which you can jump to from the link on my sidebar.
Today I spent the afternoon with my brother, as I do about once a month. We did exactly what we did on the afternoon I described in my first post--went to Blockbuster to pick out movies for him to watch on the little TV in his room at the nursing home where he lives. The nursing home is very near where both my sister and my eighty-five-year-old father live (my mother died nearly 20 years ago), and about a half-hour by subway from where I live.
My brother is paralyzed on his right side and cannot walk, so I push him the few blocks to the video store in his wheelchair. He also cannot talk, but he is cognizant of his surroundings and understands whatever is said to him, and communicates with gestures and a few sounds. With those few sounds and also with his facial expressions, he still manages to have attitude, to be a wise guy. He likes a good joke, a funny story, a good meal, a beer.
At Blockbuster, we go up and down the aisles. He points to movies that look appealing, and I read him the descriptions. He tends to go for action movies, spy movies, and anything with Jennifer Lopez.
Today, after we've picked out some movies, I take him back outside into the cool fall day. I ask him if he wants to go to the movies (another thing we sometimes do) or just walk a little bit. He indicates that he wants to walk. We go as far as the corner. I cross us over to the other side so we can be in the sun, and then he indicates that he doesn't want to go any further, that he wants to go back toward the nursing home, and most likely the diner that is across the street from the nursing home, where we can have some lunch. I am relieved that he doesn't want to go for a long walk, because I am feeling tired and also it is a little cold out.
As we near the end of the first long block in our walk back toward the nursing home, we pass the donut shop where my father goes pretty much every day. I peer in, and sure enough, he is there at his usual table, talking earnestly to a woman. "Let's go in and say hello," I say to my brother. Then I say, "Hmmm, maybe he's with his girlfriend." (My sister and I have been hearing about a woman that he sometimes talks to at the donut shop.) Then, as I look closely, I see that the woman is actually my sister. "No, it's his other girlfriend," I tell my brother, making him roll his eyes.
We go in and join them. My father is delighted. He shows this by making a joke about how they'll let anyone into Dunkin Donuts these days. I continue the joking around, saying to my sister, "Don't think you guys can hide from us."
I go up to the counter to get coffee and two glazed donuts for my brother and me. While I'm waiting, I look back at the little group, the three of them, my brother and father and sister. I'm a little worried that my brother might be uncomfortable or in pain or sulky, but then I see that he looks happy, that he is laughing at something that my father or my sister is saying. He almost seems like himself, the way he used to be. And then I feel at ease, like I can stop worrying for a minute, and I also have this other feeling that I sometimes have when we are all together, that it's such a gift that we're reunited, that I can be with my brother and my sister and we can be with our father. And the fact that this gift comes from the circumstance that my brother has had this terrible, limiting thing happen to him is hard to make sense of, but there it is, one doesn't cancel out the other.
Today I spent the afternoon with my brother, as I do about once a month. We did exactly what we did on the afternoon I described in my first post--went to Blockbuster to pick out movies for him to watch on the little TV in his room at the nursing home where he lives. The nursing home is very near where both my sister and my eighty-five-year-old father live (my mother died nearly 20 years ago), and about a half-hour by subway from where I live.
My brother is paralyzed on his right side and cannot walk, so I push him the few blocks to the video store in his wheelchair. He also cannot talk, but he is cognizant of his surroundings and understands whatever is said to him, and communicates with gestures and a few sounds. With those few sounds and also with his facial expressions, he still manages to have attitude, to be a wise guy. He likes a good joke, a funny story, a good meal, a beer.
At Blockbuster, we go up and down the aisles. He points to movies that look appealing, and I read him the descriptions. He tends to go for action movies, spy movies, and anything with Jennifer Lopez.
Today, after we've picked out some movies, I take him back outside into the cool fall day. I ask him if he wants to go to the movies (another thing we sometimes do) or just walk a little bit. He indicates that he wants to walk. We go as far as the corner. I cross us over to the other side so we can be in the sun, and then he indicates that he doesn't want to go any further, that he wants to go back toward the nursing home, and most likely the diner that is across the street from the nursing home, where we can have some lunch. I am relieved that he doesn't want to go for a long walk, because I am feeling tired and also it is a little cold out.
As we near the end of the first long block in our walk back toward the nursing home, we pass the donut shop where my father goes pretty much every day. I peer in, and sure enough, he is there at his usual table, talking earnestly to a woman. "Let's go in and say hello," I say to my brother. Then I say, "Hmmm, maybe he's with his girlfriend." (My sister and I have been hearing about a woman that he sometimes talks to at the donut shop.) Then, as I look closely, I see that the woman is actually my sister. "No, it's his other girlfriend," I tell my brother, making him roll his eyes.
We go in and join them. My father is delighted. He shows this by making a joke about how they'll let anyone into Dunkin Donuts these days. I continue the joking around, saying to my sister, "Don't think you guys can hide from us."
I go up to the counter to get coffee and two glazed donuts for my brother and me. While I'm waiting, I look back at the little group, the three of them, my brother and father and sister. I'm a little worried that my brother might be uncomfortable or in pain or sulky, but then I see that he looks happy, that he is laughing at something that my father or my sister is saying. He almost seems like himself, the way he used to be. And then I feel at ease, like I can stop worrying for a minute, and I also have this other feeling that I sometimes have when we are all together, that it's such a gift that we're reunited, that I can be with my brother and my sister and we can be with our father. And the fact that this gift comes from the circumstance that my brother has had this terrible, limiting thing happen to him is hard to make sense of, but there it is, one doesn't cancel out the other.
posted by Sarah Sometimes at 11:47 PM
2 Comments:
That's such a wonderful moment you describe at the end of this post.
I second Jo(e). I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you to see your brother in that limiting situation, but I'm still glad that you can enjoy these moments together, the four of you.
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