You've Got Mail!

It was Thursday night and we were just kicking back, catching up on a bit of tv from the week. Since the Pulmonary Fibrosis has taken more and more of my everyday functions of life away, we have learned to DVR our favorite shows - even if we're watching them that night. This way if I happen to doze off, I can still watch them when I wake up. Plus if we get busy and can't sit down to catch them at their appointed times, we can still see them. It was during the first commercial break of NCIS that I decided to quickly check my email on my Kindle Fire while Oliver ran to the bathroom to take care of business. Sure enough, true to AOL form... You've Got Mail!

Right there before my eyes, the third email down, was an email that totally caught me off guard. Subject: Long Lost Brother, From: Dick Buchanan. I immediately just froze and sat staring at it. What the? Surely this was some kind of a cruel joke. Just about everybody outside of some of my newest friends on facebook knew that my older brother Dick had been missing for over 40 years. Despite several attempts through the years to track him down, I've never been able to find out if he was alive or dead. I sat there, continuing to stare at it - wanting to open it and yet afraid to at the same time. What if it was someone playing a joke? That would not be funny. Not funny at all. Somewhere in the recesses of a mind that I wasn't sure was serving me well, I remembered having recently forwarded his social security number and information to a private investigator who was going to try and help me find out if he had been one of the victims of John Wayne Gacy. Perhaps there was something to this after all.

With trepidation and anticipation I clicked it open. "Hi Peggy" it started. Ok, not very many people in my life get away with calling me Peggy. Nope, not many at all. Dick was one of those very few who did. I continued to read the email of how the private eye had contacted him and told him I had been looking for him - for forty years. The PI gave him my email address, home address and phone number and left if up to him to contact me. Knowing the PI, I knew he wouldn't have given my information out to just anybody unless he was pretty darn sure he had the right person. I had told him about the investigators that I had hired way back when my mother died and how I got calls all hours of the day and night from people claiming to be him. I had finally come up with questions that only my brother would have been able to answer, nobody else. That got rid of the bogus callers in short order. At first I thought I was going to have to brush the dust off those questions after I retrieved them from the deepest recesses of my mind.

I looked over and told Oliver that I had just received an email from some guy claiming to be Dick. He asked how I felt about it and I said that something about it rang true but I couldn't exactly say what. The guy claiming to be Dick had said that he'd call me on Saturday and we could talk. That would give me two days to think about it more. Needless to say, I felt a bit shocked. Why wouldn't the PI have called and given me a heads up? Then again, how else would somebody get my info if the PI didn't give it to him? I had mixed feelings. Dick had sent the email from a work email so I decided that I could go check the company website and see what I could find out. More and more companies are now including pictures of their employees on their websites and I was hoping that since it was a computer consulting company that they would have done just that. So over to the website I went. Right there on the front page was a face so familiar to me that I felt like it was literally coming alive right there on my screen. I gasped out an "Oh my God, it's him" and Oliver responded with "you're kidding?" "Nope it's him". "How can you tell?" "Look!"

In that moment, I experienced a gamut of emotions: denial, excitement, anger, angst, surprise,questions, fear, and then a compete and inexplicable peace. Anger was the hardest one to deal with. I was truly grateful that he is alive and doing well in the beautiful Northwest Territory of our fine country and then there was a part of me that kicked in that wanted to kill him for having put our whole family through such turmoil for so incredibly many years. Where was he? Why? etc., etc. Because of the Pulmonary Fibrosis, I have to be extra diligent that I don't get too stressed. So I literally had to talk myself down from feeling all that I was feeling. I told myself to calm down and give him the benefit of the doubt and hear what he had to say. No sense rehashing scenarios in my head that I had already gone over and over again for 40 years. A few deep breaths and I conquered that feat. Soon enough I'd have the answers I had been seeking all these years. At least then I'd be able to base my feeling on facts and not the "what ifs".

My first email after getting his was to my half sister, Jane, telling her I had heard from him and asking her if she'd bail me out when I killed him? Her reply to me was "hell, I'm bringing the shovel." Ok, guess we were both going to have to rely on Oliver to spring us if it came to that. My next email was to Dick himself letting him know that he could call me anytime. The sooner the better. First thing Friday morning the phone rang and it was him. We introduced each other and it only took 15 seconds for any anger or bitterness or any ill will I might have felt to completely melt away. I did ask what happened and you know what? His answer made perfect sense. He had changed his mind and at first was afraid of the earful he'd get calling home with the information, so he procrastinated (a family tradition) and then one month led to the next and before long, time had just gotten away. In his mind we had gone on with our lives without him for five years anyway and he didn't want to interfere with the lives we had forged out for ourselves. In all fairness, he had no idea of the hell we had been living while he was gone. That was one thing our family was masters of - hiding reality.

We were products of an alcoholic home. At first it was just social drinking between our parents and friends who used to like to have a good time. Then it morphed into heavier drinking as things became strained behind the closed doors of the old homestead. When I was 5 and Dick was 15, the final straw had broken the camel's back and dad walked out - one year after my mom's mom died right there in the home with us. The four of us, mom, Dick, myself and our younger brother Ken, managed the best we could for years. My mom would occasionally date but for the most part it was just us and she leaned heavily on Dick to fill in the role of male of the home. The alcohol became her drug of choice to mask the pain and we were all too able to cover for her. She was what would be considered today a functioning drunk - she still held down a job but as soon as she got home, all bets were off. She'd quietly imbibe until she'd literally pass out on the couch which would leave the three of us kids to fend for ourselves. Most days it wasn't too hard because Dick was home and he was able to make dinner. More and more often though, he had to work and that left it up to me. Cold cuts and sandwiches to the rescue on most nights and an occasional can of tomato soup. That was my culinary specialty. Oh and a killer egg salad. Dick was the master of tv dinners and chicken pot pies (neither of which I will have to this day).  He had become the man of the house and he did it all quite well. Too well. It was way too much responsibility to put on a 15 year old young man. Taking care of his mother, his sister and his brother. He was great at it. He made sure my mittens matched and were on the right hands, my socks and shoes matched and were laced to perfection, my winter coat buttoned up and a scarf tied to keep the cold wind out along with a hat on my head to keep the body heat from escaping. He made a great parent - especially for one who had been so let down and neglected by his own. Our dad was mean to him. I remember a lot of times Dick Sr. yelling at Dick and him running to his room in tears. Seems like the old man never had a kind word to say. He never told me but common sense would dictate that I don't think Dick was too upset when the old man hit the road.

Finally when my mom remarried, Dick saw an opening and took it. He joined the army and off he went. He had no clue of the hell he left behind for Ken and I to deal with. And true to family tradition, we never let on. We just continued on. In January 1971, our newly acquired stepdad decided committing suicide was preferable to finding a job and contributing to the family expenses. Dick did come home for the funeral but there was no need to bad mouth the deceased so we just kept mum. Mom convinced Dick that we'd be fine. She was a proud Norwegian woman after all and not about to let on that she had married not one, but two men that would be considered losers in today's books. So Dick went back to Germany and I continued taking on the parent role with Ken and then as my mom's health declined, with her as well.

I really understood then as much as I understand now why Dick would not want to come home to that environment. What I was counting on was that the good times that we had and the close bond that we shared would have been enough to draw him back and that together we could have worked it all out. After all, mom's drinking cut back all the way to non-existence as she got sicker. Dick never knew she had stopped drinking altogether almost two years before she died. He never realized that the tensions between our extended family seem to have an even deeper rift than ever before so there was no support system in place. The only support I had was from one lone teacher at school who became a father figure to me during my high school years and there was my youth group at church. My teacher, Mr. Harris, died my senior year just before Thanksgiving and only two months before mom died. I was devastated. By then, Dick had already been missing for a couple of years.

Our mom died not knowing what happened to her eldest boy. My dad spent years wondering what became of him as did my aunts, uncles and many other extended family members. It would always come up as people wondered what happened but nobody was willing to help me try and find him. Finally when my mom died I had to hire investigators to try and find him because he was written in the will. His social security number was run but came up with nothing. All that did was show that he hadn't worked in the United States nor filed any tax returns. Turns out he stayed in Germany 5 years so that answers that question. In 1988 I had his military records checked and found out he had never applied for or used any VA benefits. That was odd for a young man of 42 to have never used benefits. According to Dick, he worked for great companies with great benefits so the VA medical wasn't needed and he didn't use the VA benefit to buy a house until the 90's - long after the last time it was checked.

For years the Cook County Sheriff's Office has had all the information. They kept telling me they were coming up with nothing when in reality, after those first attempts, they never ran the numbers again or they'd have gotten a hit. I am still angry with them. They could have put an end to this many years ago but couldn't be bothered. Every few years there would be a new detective on the case and I'd give them the same info over and over again and they'd assure me they'd look into it, yet nothing was ever done. That is shameful. There are countless others who are waiting on answers, just like I had been all these years.

Since Friday, Dick and I have talked every day. He's spent countless hours pouring through the blogs I've been writing for the past few years. That has helped a lot. It's funny when I went to write them I argued heavily with God about it. Why on earth would He ask me to put my deepest thoughts and history down in writing when I couldn't even bring myself to journal or keep a diary? After all with two brothers, leaving any ammunition around for them to tease me about would have been a no brainer. Finally I relented and basically did it because I wanted to get in the habit and discipline of writing. They're all rough drafts. Not once have I ever gone back and edited. It wasn't about perfection it was about discipline for me. So there I was bearing my whole soul for the world to see. Now I can see how helpful those blogs are in this situation. Dick has been able to pore over them and absorb all the news he's missed over the last 40 years - at his own pace. That's freeing me up to deal with my own feelings after all these years. For the most part I really am alright. Better than alright.

I'll be blogging as I work out some of the details and keep you posted on how we progress from here. So far we've talked everyday and it's been amazing. In a matter of minutes, 40 years just evaporated and we fell into the easy conversations we used to have together all those years ago. We'll have our first face to face meeting this Saturday night. He's flying in Sat. night and then going back home Monday morning. Just a quick trip in to meet face to face. We're both excited. There's a bond between us that for whatever reason has not broken. Oh perhaps it was stretched a bit but like any good elastic product, it's retained it's shape and is working as good as new. I won't be meeting my new sister-in-law on this trip. She has a sister in the last stages of cancer and she needs to be with her. I certainly understand that. I'm looking forward to getting to know her too.

After reuniting with Dick, he, Janie, my son Dan, Oliver, etc. are determined to find our younger brother, Ken. His last know living arrangements were in Henderson, NV and they're trying to track him down. I have to admit, my curiosity is piqued but I spent 40 years looking for one brother - time to let someone else take the reins from here to find the other one. That would bring the family into contact and make us complete after a very, very long time.

As of now, my heart is full and complete. God's faithfulness has come through once again as only He can orchestrate it. My prayer has always been to find out the truth about Dick while I was still alive. That prayer has been answered. While I am in no hurry to kick the bucket anytime soon, at least I know when my time comes I can leave this world knowing I accomplished the one thing that I needed to get done before dying. I hope we have lots of time to catch up and form an even stronger bond. Either way, I'm grateful for the relationship I have now and anything more is just icing on the cake. I'm so very grateful I never gave up despite being told time and time again - many times by professional counselors - to let it go and move on. I just couldn't do it. I do give Oliver credit for never suggesting that to me. His only requirement was that I didn't let it make me lose sleep or cry myself to sleep because of it. Most times I honored that request.

I'm still dealing with feelings and thoughts that I have to come to terms with. It's been easier than I thought it would be but probably only because I've dealt with so many scenarios in my head all these years that nothing has come as a total surprise. My heart goes out to Dick. He's having to process 40 years of family history, deaths, situations, etc. in a matter of days - many of which have strong emotions attached to them. I'm sure he's dealing with a bit of guilt for having left us behind in the situation we were in - but that's unnecessary. He didn't know. For forty years I have kept extremely safe two pairs of slide rules (old mathematic items predating calculators) that were his and he had accused me of losing the last time we were together. It actually was Ken that hid them and I found them a couple of months later and have held on to them since. This weekend they will go into the right hands. : )

To show you the depths of what we've gone through all these years of not knowing, I still plan on blogging about all the different things we thought had happened to him. Some of them will not be for the faint of heart. Through it all I can honestly tell you that God was right there with me, holding my hand and asking me to trust Him - no matter what. I'm going to take you along on a little ride and show you just how much harder that can be to do than you can possibly imagine. In the meantime, grab someone you're close to and let them know that you love them - really love them - because none of us knows if it's the very last memory we'll have of that person. Have a good one and stay tuned...