Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Post of an autobiographical nature.
I grew up with and older brother and sister and a younger sister and a much younger sister. Of course as children we have nothing to compare our lives to so all is normal as far as we know. My older brother and I shared a room and I learned my "little brother" role of giving in. We played and were as normal as I thought we were.
My older sister and my year-younger sister shared a bedroom as well. They were girls and so we never hung out together either. Sure, when we were younger we were always playing together I suppose but I have so little memory of my first ten years for some reason.
When I was about 12 or so I was looking at the church directory which was a type of phone book with all the addresses and phone numbers of the members of each ward, or parish if you will. It also had the dates of birth of the children in the family. I noticed that my older brother and sister had names that I did not recognize. It was my younger sister who explained to me that my older brother and sister were actually half brother and sister.
I never thought of them that way and I still didn't until just recently when my older brother did not come to my father's funeral. Now I do. Sure, my dad wasn't HIS dad but HIS dad didn't raise him. OUR dad raised him. I thought that at least his love for our mother would bring him to the funeral. It would have been really significant to her.
My wife thinks that it's bad that I said that I am now finished with him but I am. I mean this was a guy who whenever we saw each other as adults it was a result of my efforts. I moved toward him. I called. I went. It was important to me because he was my brother. My only brother.
Now I have no brother.
I am certain that if he were to ever read this post it would have no effect on him at all.
My mother is afraid that after she is gone that none of us kids will see each other. She's probably right.
We are all so different. If you were to run personality tests on me and my three older siblings you would judge from the results that I and my older sister were siblings and that my younger sister and my brother were siblings even though we are from three fathers and that the three younger kids (me and my two sisters) are from my father.
Only just recently in conversation with my older sister did I hear her and my brother's perspective of our childhood. I don't think that she realizes how it struck me to the core. There was no abuse there of any kind just a separate treatment of a man toward his children and his step-children. A difference that I never really noticed until I was older.
A man who worked all his adult life to put food on the table for all of us. A man who was getting ready to go to work the very day two heart attacks ended his life.
Why do I post this?
Why not.
When I complete a year of blogging I hope to discover the way to burn it all on a disc and make copies for the kids. So I need to post one like this every now and then I guess.
I grew up with and older brother and sister and a younger sister and a much younger sister. Of course as children we have nothing to compare our lives to so all is normal as far as we know. My older brother and I shared a room and I learned my "little brother" role of giving in. We played and were as normal as I thought we were.
My older sister and my year-younger sister shared a bedroom as well. They were girls and so we never hung out together either. Sure, when we were younger we were always playing together I suppose but I have so little memory of my first ten years for some reason.
When I was about 12 or so I was looking at the church directory which was a type of phone book with all the addresses and phone numbers of the members of each ward, or parish if you will. It also had the dates of birth of the children in the family. I noticed that my older brother and sister had names that I did not recognize. It was my younger sister who explained to me that my older brother and sister were actually half brother and sister.
I never thought of them that way and I still didn't until just recently when my older brother did not come to my father's funeral. Now I do. Sure, my dad wasn't HIS dad but HIS dad didn't raise him. OUR dad raised him. I thought that at least his love for our mother would bring him to the funeral. It would have been really significant to her.
My wife thinks that it's bad that I said that I am now finished with him but I am. I mean this was a guy who whenever we saw each other as adults it was a result of my efforts. I moved toward him. I called. I went. It was important to me because he was my brother. My only brother.
Now I have no brother.
I am certain that if he were to ever read this post it would have no effect on him at all.
My mother is afraid that after she is gone that none of us kids will see each other. She's probably right.
We are all so different. If you were to run personality tests on me and my three older siblings you would judge from the results that I and my older sister were siblings and that my younger sister and my brother were siblings even though we are from three fathers and that the three younger kids (me and my two sisters) are from my father.
Only just recently in conversation with my older sister did I hear her and my brother's perspective of our childhood. I don't think that she realizes how it struck me to the core. There was no abuse there of any kind just a separate treatment of a man toward his children and his step-children. A difference that I never really noticed until I was older.
A man who worked all his adult life to put food on the table for all of us. A man who was getting ready to go to work the very day two heart attacks ended his life.
Why do I post this?
Why not.
When I complete a year of blogging I hope to discover the way to burn it all on a disc and make copies for the kids. So I need to post one like this every now and then I guess.
// posted by sinner @ 1:24 PM 
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