Families: What is really important?

So many people today take life for granted. We go about our busy lives thinking that we will always have tomorrow to address things we may have put off from today. We go to sleep at the end of the day with the expectation that tomorrow will come, and with a new day, all of the people that we care about will be there too. We walk away from arguments selfishly assuming that we will be able to mend fences and make amends at a later time. At times, we even put off connecting with family members because we know there is time later to build a stronger relationship. What happens if we are wrong? What happens when tomorrow does not come?

I am the oldest of five children, and I have four younger brothers. I would like to say that we have a close relationship, and that we share many happy memories about our childhood. Sadly however, I cannot. Due to decisions made by the adults in our lives, we actually spent most of our childhood apart, more to the point; I actually did not know that my three youngest brothers existed until I was 17 years old. When I met my brothers for the first time, it was difficult for all of us. They were 14, 12 and 7 at the time, and they had grown up not knowing they shared their dad with other children. We were kids however, and although weird at first, we came to accept each other. I had the opportunity to spend a few months with them and before long, we were bickering like brothers and sisters everywhere do. I loved them.

The relationship I was trying to build with my father and his family was weighted down by 16 years of baggage. There were reasons my father left, and reasons my mother kept her children from him. After a few months, just after Christmas actually, my father abandoned me for the second time in my life.

This was devastating for me. This time, I was also grieving the loss of my three brothers. Time moves on, I grew into a woman and had my own family. I had come to a place of acceptance about my father, but my siblings were always in my heart. I missed them. Holidays would come and I would wonder where they were, if they were happy, I tried to picture the men they were growing to be.

Over the years I would occasionally try to search for my brothers with online search tools to no avail. Finally, in 2009, through the magic of Facebook, I found my brother Dan. I was so excited and apprehensive when I saw his picture. I knew it was him; he looked just like I remembered him. I sent a friend request and waited anxiously to see if he would accept. It was a long couple of days of waiting. Finally, I received that (familiar) notification that I had been waiting for. After 18 years, I was finally on the path to having my brothers back in my life.

Through Dan, I found Noel, and this year I found my baby brother Adam. It has been hard for us to make a familial connection with each other. We have all walked different roads to get to this (new) place, we all carry scars from our childhood, and we all have lives that have been built to the exclusion of each other. My hope was to muster the courage to make a trip to see them. Yet, I didn’t want to intrude. As I looked at their pictures on Facebook, and read their status updates, I always promised myself that soon I would reach out and make plans to connect. Soon I would introduce my daughters to uncles they never knew existed. Soon, we could build a family connection.

Tragically, I learned that my version of “soon” was too late. On June 18th 2011, at the young age of 33, my brother Dan was killed in a motorcycle crash. Gone forever is the opportunity to reach out and truly connect with my brother. I will never feel the excitement of hearing the rumble of his Harley pulling into my driveway for an impromptu visit on a lazy summer afternoon. I will never have the chance to share a hug or a laugh with him, or just to sit with him and to reminisce about fun we had in the short time we spent together as children.

My brother had a passion for motorcycles, he loved the outdoors, and he was a hard worker. I wish I could tell you about the sparkle he had in his eyes when he was telling you a joke, or explain that because he was so tall I felt like a little person when standing next to him. Truthfully, I cannot share these things now. Because of my own hesitation and procrastination, I will never know. I have so few fond memories to cherish when the night is darkest.

My grief now is fresh. I grieve for what was lost. I grieve for lost chances that I can never have back. I have learned now how important it is to reach out to the people in my life. I was playing the odds in a misguided belief that time was on my side. I have learned the bitter truth; time takes no sides. All we really have is this moment. Anything beyond it is not guaranteed. We have to make every moment count, because we don’t know if it will be our last.