I come from a big
Irish-Catholic family. We grew up in New York City. My parents had
six kids. I'm somewhere in the middle. I've got an older brother
and sister, plus a younger brother and two younger sisters. For
better or worse, we're not a particularly close family. Most of us still live dispersed in New York State if not the City itself except for
my oldest brother, Bill. My younger brother Patrick and I both live in
Florida: He in the Miami area; me in Pensacola – about as far from
each other as you can be in Florida.
As I said, we kids are not
close. Years go by without seeing each other – or even
communicating very much. The reasons for this are complex and not
completely understood by this reporter. I hate to use the
expression, but it is what it is. Facebook has helped that, but only
slightly.
And yet this past weekend I was back up in New York as we all gathered together again. It occurred to me
that the last time all six of us were under the same roof was back in 1998 on the
occasion of my father's funeral. This time it was my mom's. (She
was 94, and it was not unexpected.)
It was interesting to see
my brothers and sisters again. We've all aged considerably as you'd
expect, but yet we all look pretty much the same. Nobody's gone
bald, although some of us (me included) have revealing holes in the
hair on the back of our heads. All of my sibs are inexplicably as
thin as starving supermodels. I, on the other hand, look like the
“before” picture in a Weight-Watchers ad. My younger brother
Pat looks and sounds so much like dad that it's spooky. I kept
doing a double-take. The rest of us are a mix.
We got together a couple
of times after the service. Naturally there was a lot of
reminiscing: some good, some sad. My memory is so awful. It's fortunate that your brothers and sisters can fill in holes in
your own recollections. I feel sorry for those who come from small
families. It was also funny (to me, anyway) that a lot of my
memories centered around the kind of cars we had at the time.
”Ohhhhh yeah, I remember now! That was when we had our
second Volkswagen Bus.” And so on.
It was a sad occasion,
obviously, but I was happy with a number of things:
One, although I refer
to (and think of!) us as such, none of us are kids anymore. The eldest being 69 and
the youngest is 57. Thank God we are all still in fairly good
health. None of have turned into stereotypical grumpy old people. I
didn't hear any bitching and moaning or anyone being crabby about
anything. It was refreshing and gratifying.
Secondly, it's amazing to me to rediscover how naturally funny my brothers and sisters are. I thought I was “the funny one” in the family. Not so! Compared to my sibs I am a virtual sourpuss. They are hilarious, each with a keen sense of humor that must be genetic come to think of it. I don't mean to imply that we were yucking and whooping it up on the weekend of mom's funeral. We were not. But neither were we morose and disconsolate. That is not the Irish way!
Finally, we all got along
really well. You know that in any big family there's bound to be a
certain amount of...tension or perhaps
animosities among the siblings. Mine is no exception. But on this weekend nobody brought
up any drama from the past. If there was any it was kept below the
surface.
In a bar after the service
(like I said we are Irish after all), one of my older sister's adult
daughters asked me, ”Now that your mom is gone, do you
think you and your brothers and sisters will become closer?”
It was an interesting question and it kind of caught me off-guard.
For I don't really know. Maybe. We'll see.
On Monday morning as the Delta MD-88 climbed
out and away from Albany, headed back south, I reflected on the
events of the past two days, as you're required to do when taking an
airline trip. It was, all things considered a nice weekend. We all
love our family, of course. But beyond that, I like my brothers and
sisters too. I admire them. They're all highly intelligent, funny,
well-adjusted people who grew up without drug or alcohol problems, and who have never seen the inside of a jail cell (to my knowledge anyway). My parents (may
they rest in peace) can be proud that they raised five wonderful
children.
...And one ne'er-do-well
pilot/motorcyclist bum.
5 comments:
Sorry about your mother, Bob. I know you said it was not unexpected but it is still a loss.
I lost my mother in 1996 and my dad in 2006. I only had one sibling, a brother who was five and a half years older. We became closer after both of our parents were gone but were as different as night and day and we could only go so far. He died last year and it affected me more profoundly than I would have thought. Something about family ...
Please accept my sympathy in your mother's death. As Bob said, expected perhaps, but it's still a loss. My parents died when I was a child/teen and even though my siblings and I don't see each other often, we've always stayed in touch. (with the exception of 10 years that my brothers feuded and wouldn't speak) My only sister died a few years ago and, to once again quote Bob, it affected me profoundly.
Not that you asked for advice, but make the effort to stay in touch... even if only via social media.
Thanks for the comments, guys.
Whether expected or not, the passing of a loved one is always complicated. Intellectually, we know that parents are supposed to precede their children in death. However, when they do the sense of loss is still tremendous, no doubt. Same with a sibling, I'd imagine.
I hate to say this, but unfortunately those of us in aviation sort of get used to dealing with death. It's not that there are so many fatal crashes but rather that the whole industry is so small that if a helicopter crashes somewhere, chances are you'll either know the pilot personally or know someone who did. I'd rather not count the number of people I've known who've perished in aircraft accidents over the years.
It hardens you after a while. You come to realize that death is a natural part of life, that we all die eventually, blah blah blah. For us believers, we know that we'll see the departed in the afterlife. This knowledge is supposed to make you feel better and ease your pain although it doesn't always do that.
I have a friend who is on a definite downward spiral. I watch in absolute horror as he descends into a mental and physical state that, if not corrected and reversed will surely result in his demise. And there is NOTHING that I can do. Sometimes you have to let people lead their own lives...or deaths, in this case. I mean, I hope and pray for the best, but more than that...
So it's not like I'm cold to death - far from it. I'm not heartless. But I try to keep it all in perspective.
Please accept my sympathy in your mother's death.
Thank you, James. The inevitability of death haunts us all. One way or the other, we all have to deal with it eventually.
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