I had a brother, once.
He was thirteen when he died, doing some stupid bicycle trick too near the traffic on a heavily traveled road. That was nearly 36 years ago. I was fifteen then and didn’t have much of a clue. For a while, it seemed as though my mother and father were falling apart and that, somehow, was even more frightening and upsetting than losing my brother. Eventually we got it together. Life goes on and you either go with it or you don’t.
I went out yesterday to do some grocery and “basic supplies” shopping. Cupboards were getting a bit bare and we needed quite a few things. Myria’s foot is still swollen (although much better than it was) and is still rather painful. She certainly didn’t want to traipse around the supermarkets all afternoon and, frankly, I didn’t want her to either. So I went solo.
I turned on the radio to our local classical station, WCRB. I listen to this station a lot when I’m in the car by myself. As I was pulling on to the highway the strains of Antonin Dvorak’s New World Symphony floated out of the speakers. It is a beautiful piece and I hadn’t heard it in a long time. It also called my brother to mind as it had been his favorite piece of classical music - in so far as a thirteen-year-old can have a favorite piece of classical music :)
Heading north on Rte 3, I settled into the strains of the piece and acknowledged my brother’s ephemeral presence in the car. I felt just a bit guilty because it seemed to me that I should miss him. But I don’t any more, it’s been too long. So I tried to explain to him how I did feel. He died at a point where our relationship was somewhat antagonistic. What can I say - we were teenagers! But, in a perfect world, we wouldn’t be teenagers forever. We would grow up, develop other interests, have jobs and families of our own. We would mature and our relationship, hopefully, would mature as well. We would be very different from one another; that was obvious even thirty-six years ago. But there would likely be areas of commonality (perhaps surprising ones) through which we would be able to reach each other effectively. But since he died so young that was never going to happen. I felt cheated and, expressed my regret that I would never get to know him as an adult.
All this I tried to explain to him - and to myself. It made sense. When I have dreamed of my brother (not frequently, but every now and again) he has always been the correct chronological age - a year-and-a-half younger than me. Now I understand why.
I felt surprisingly mellow and comfortable. I understood what had happened. I had finally been able to articulate and express a resentment, a sorrow that I had been lugging around for a very long time. Let’s face it, in my case, serenity was not part of the original equipment package. I do aspire to it, but rarely achieve it, so I was surprised at how tranquil and peaceful I felt.
And then the Dvorak ended and I arrived at the first of my shopping destinations.
All the places I had to stop at yesterday were bad, but this first was the worst. People climbing up your backside, cutting you off and practically taking things out of your hands. It’s not unusual for this place but I hadn’t mentally geared up for it (dealing, as I had been, with other issues), nor did I have Myria to act as a buffer for me.
A single incident out of many: I needed to get cat food. As I steered my carriage into the narrow aisle, I had to stop because there was nowhere to go. The gentleman who’s carriage was blocking the aisle was contemplating a can of 9-Lives and was completely oblivious to the rest of the world. Eventually he decided that can was acceptable, put it in his wagon and moved the wagon down sufficiently far that I could at least get into the aisle. I made sure my carriage was pulled well over to the side so that people could get past and turned to get my own canned stuff (we’re a Little Friskies household :). Immediately, two elderly women stepped in front of me and began their own little cat food expedition. I must admit, they were very good - have probably worked out, honed and fine-tuned this routine over many years of tag-team shopping. No one, not even Jesus, Himself (should He have chosen that moment to return) was going to get anywhere near the cat food until those two had gotten what they wanted.
Side thought: How do parents handle situations like this when teaching their children how to deal with them? Because given the nature of the world, it almost seems that teaching kids to be polite and courteous will do nothing but hamstring them.
When I was finally done and able to head back home, some three hours later, I was exhausted, keyed up and resentful. I just wanted to get my groceries upstairs and close the door on the world.
But, wouldn’t you know it, as I was pulling off the highway, just about a mile from the apartment, the radio began to play a series of waltzes, light and pretty, and also by Dvorak. I couldn’t swear to it, but I suspect my brother was around somewhere, reminding me that the time I spent in resentment would be completely wasted time - without even so much as a decent memory to show for it.
He was absolutely right. And I spent the last mile of my drive, smiling, all by myself in the car.
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Deep! Music always reminds me of my dad, too. 
How wonderful that you could have that moment of peace and communion with your brother.
(hugs)
what wonderful thoughts about acceptance and about reconnections with your brother-
umm, about teaching children to be polite etc,- i have raised 6, and i think they are relatively polite individuals, but it is not a case of teaching but having them learn by example and sometimes a *bad* example can be a powerful lesson too-
stay happy-
Chery - Music is such a powerful conection, isn’t it? I can’t imagine the world without it.
Becca - Well, I certainly wasn’t looking or planning for it, but yes - it was very welcome :)
Nattie - Hugs back to you kiddo :)
Barb - A peculiar sort of grace, but grace all the same, I believe.
I know you’re right about setting a good example and I believe it is necessary to try, regardless. But more and more, it seems, the well-mannered get nothing but trodden upon. I doubt that will change anything for me, but it can be discouraging.
Wow! Robbyn- you brought me to tears! you expressed your feelings so elequently that I felt compelled to read on and found myself sad that it ended. I am happy that you found that quiet place again and were able to reconnect with the energy that your brother surely sent your way. Bless your heart…
~ DAWN
Dawn - Thanks for your kind thoughts.
Music - and smells, for some reason - bring the past flooding right back. Thanks for sharing your day with us.
Pam - Yes, you’re right; I’d forgotten about smells. That one doessn’t happen to me often but when it does - WOW! The association is always immediate and sharp and is sometimes like getting hit over the head!
Thanks for sharing such a personal and emotional experience. Your writing reminded me of how important it is not to let the rudeness of others rule my emotions. God Bless.
Lisa - That’s a lesson I keep having to learn over and over again. But I keep trying to remember :)
