Some days I miss my mother more so than on other days. Usually they have been milestones in my life that I really wish she had been there for - my wedding, the birth of my son, the birth of my grandson, times of extreme illness, times of questioning my existence, etc. Last Saturday was one of those days. After 40 years, I was finally heading to the airport to pick up my older brother, Dick.
As Oliver and I made our way to Pensacola, I couldn't help but glance over and secretly wish it were my mom sitting in the seat next to me. It should have been. Dick is her oldest boy and she had seen him off to the Army with the expectation that he would arrive home within a reasonable amount of time. We saw him a couple of times while he was in the Army when he came home on leave, but we were looking forward to the day that we'd pick him up and not have to worry about taking him back to the airport for another run overseas.
I was crazy excited and a bit nervous too. Kinda felt like I was going on that blind date that you've only heard good things about the other person and you're so aftraid of buying into the hype for fear of being let down. You know what I mean? The last time I saw him in person he was 25 and I was a mere 15. We were very young. Was he expecting the skinny legged little sister who adored and idolized him? Was that girl still hidden somewhere inside this very battered middle age body tethered to an oxygen machine and getting about in a wheelchair? Was he still going to be the sweet spirited young man that I thought was going to be the catch of the day for some lucky lady? The anticipation mounted as we got to the airport through the driving rain.
I spotted him immediately, both wanting to and afraid to make eye contact. What if it was the wrong guy? What if he didn't want to meet my eye contact? What if, once more, I felt rejected? How would I react? Will I cry, will I laugh, will I feel anything? After all 40 years is a long, long time and I can honestly say that in that time I had felt every emotion known to man regarding my brother.
The ride home was long and arduous. I attributed the silence in the car to the weather, or at least that was my hope. The rain was coming down extremely hard and it made it very difficult to see the road. We finally made it to Crestview and the rain let up a bit so we decided to stop and get a bite to eat. As soon as we sat down, we started talking and outside of a few hours sleep over the next day and half, we didn't stop. It certainly didn't take Oliver and Dick long to find their common ground and gain up on me. Truth be told, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
During the times we were alone, we got to discuss some pretty heavy issues about our growing up years. It was fascinating to see how we could grow up in the same house, with some of the very same situations being presented and yet react to them so totally different or have contrasting perceptions. A lot of it was the age difference, he is after all, 10 years my senior and some was gender specific. He's definitely fallen on the male side of the spectrum. Then there was that whole left brain/right brain thing going on. He being of a scientific, matter of fact, get to the point kind of mind and mine being the more relaxed, let's take the long way around the subject, writer kind of mind. We met somewhere in the middle and got through a lot of years.
I know y'all want to know exactly why he didn't come home and how on earth he could stay gone for 40 years without letting us know. Am I right? Well, the answer is really multi-dimensional and not quite so easy to pinpoint. Some of it he's still working out in his own mind before he can stand at the free throw line and tip it into my mind. The easy answer is that he didn't want to come home. There were issues that he had gotten away from for 5 years and he was hesitant to be forced to fall into old patterns. That I accepted wholeheartedly and kinda figured that it was the case. Where it got a little stickier is how he could do that to ME. He had to know I'd wonder. He had to know I'd be concerned. He had to know I'd be very, very hurt. In all fairness, he doesn't remember writing the letter stating when he was coming home. During that time he was going through a very difficult breakup with his girlfriend and was very depressed. He's not disputing writing it - he just flat out doesn't remember it. Shortly after the time I told him we got the letter, he said he had gotten an incredible job opportunity to stay over there and make some very good money. He chose the job. Then, time just slipped away from him. He buried himself into his work. The longer the time got since his last call, the more hesitant he was to call. We've all done that. We think of someone but then talk ourselves out of calling them - they're too busy, we're gonna get and earful as to why we hadn't called, there could be emotions and we all know guys don't like to do emotions. I got it.
He had no idea that my mom had gotten sick and passed away in January, 1974. Family history at that time showed longevity on our side. He had no idea of a multitude of other things that happened in the last 40 years. Mercifully my blogs have filled him in on quite a bit. Gotta say I'm grateful to God for having pressured me into writing them. They sure came in handy. We talked about many, many issues and other family members. He filled in the blanks on his life - the usual... he was a workaholic and met his bride while working. They have been married for 36 years this coming July. No kids - too busy working - although they have had a few of the four legged variety gracing their hallways. My new sister-in-law is an award winning author so he came loaded down with autographed copies of her books. That excited me.
We had no anger and we talked about how really easy it was to reconnect. Our bond was always super strong and it literally just picked up where we left off. Funny thing is that neither of us showed any great emotion. That surprised me some, although I had spent so many years going over every possible scenario in my head, that this being the best case one, I was nothing but elated. I'm sure that helped. I did have a momentary lapse where I thought I might want to break out the Buford Pusser bat and take a few swings at his head but that was early on and fortunatelly that urge passed long before his plane touched down. He had a few moments of getting choked up but I think he still was in a bit of a shock. He's had a lot to process in a very short amount of time and while I know I was looking for him for 40 years, he got a call out of the blue from a retired police detective telling him I was wanting to talk to him.
The last time I had a face to face with him was almost 41 years ago. During that visit he had brought "the girlfriend" home and was trying to show off how tough he was by being less than friendly with Ken (our younger brother) and I. He accused me of stealing his slide rules - precursors to the pocket calculators that have become a household word. I didn't take them and told him I didn't. He didn't believe me and caused quite the scene. I was devastated beyond words. A few months later I found them wrapped in a shirt and stuffed under the mattress of Kenny's bed up in the bed springs. I have kept those stupid slide rules safe and secure for over 40 years. Last week I was able to finally put them in the correct owners' hands and reclaim the real estate in my underwear drawer. I sent him home with a whole bunch of pics that I had come across and he'll scan them when he finds the time. I've had them for 40 years to safeguard - he can take over the next 40.
We still have a lot of ground to catch up on and we will. In the meantime, I'm getting my thoughts together to finally get started on that book that I've tossed around in my head. It's going to be one of those "truth is stranger than fiction" books and I hope y'all will find it interesting. I'm still processing my feelings but so far have done remarkably well. Even leaving him at the airport was such a whirlwind that neither of us had time to even say more that the rushed good-bye so that he could get to his plane. I know he'll be back one day and hopefully with his bride on his arm so I can meet my true to life sister-in-law. I just wish I had more time. I wish that this thing called Pulmonary Fibrosis wasn't eating away at my time on earth. Then I turn around and can be nothing but grateful that I was able to find him at all. The bulk of my family has gone to their grave not knowing. We have some time left. We both hope now that Ken can be found and then our family (what's left of it anyway) can be complete.
Thanks for your prayers and thanks for standing by my side through this whole ordeal. At times life has been so hard that I thought I'd crush under the sheer pain of it all but somehow I've survived, actuallly thrived, and come out stronger - with my tenacious spirit intact. 40 years - I never gave up - despite being advised again and again to let it go. Some call it stubborn, I prefer tenacious. Either way, I'm glad to finally have some closure and get some answers. We can't turn the clock back and make it exactly like it used to be, we both have aged and changed, but we can take our meeting from now and move forward. I, for one, am looking for many more talks and good times just like we used to do. Oh and Dick, be careful, I've had a long time to brush up on my Monopoly and Scrabble skills. :)
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