My brother and I ambled along the waterfront for hours. We veered into dark and very personal topics. We spoke as seriously and honestly as any two siblings could speak. I've always endeavored to know and understand him more deeply than almost anyone else. I should work this hard with people I see more often, but there are few people for whom I care more. I could see that it would be hard for him to make our parents understand his decisions, especially our mother. Just listening to him, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to make her understand him either.
This trip and the previous week-long trip on 2001 provided deeper glimpses into my brother's more serious side. He has always been full of hilarious stories. When too much time has passed between visits, I forget his serious side and think of him and describe him as a person with lots of great stories. But upon deeper reflection, he and I have always talked seriously, even when he was only a child. Week-long visits tend to remind me once again that he has a serious side.
During our last week-long visit he was still questioning and struggling to figure out what to do with his life. The unspoken but ever-present pressures of society weighed heavily upon him. Now, he was six years older and seemed much more sure of himself. He had not chosen a career or gotten married, bought a house, and had children. But he seemed to know what he wanted, even though what he wanted was was unambitious and counter to what society teaches us to want. He was certainly cynical, probably more so than anyone I knew. Though he was confident in his lack of conformity, the damage of society's tremendous pressure to conform had been done. To this I could relate. Compared to him I am much more conformist. But I have never felt like I fit in, and this has made me proud, but like him, it also damaged my feelings about myself.
My brother's personal growth has always been more interesting to both of us than my growth. The pattern was established long ago when I was the older and wiser sister with whom he could be open and not be judged. With one mandatory exception and another unintentional and regrettable lapse, I have always tried to be someone he could trust and who would never fail him.
The previous day my brother had said that our father was perfect. I was astonished because I see our father as imperfect but nevertheless one of the finest people I know. Long ago I idolized our father, but by trying to measure up to his greatness and what I assumed his expectations were, I harmed my own self confidence terribly. It was not until years later that my dad learned of my unrealistic expectations of myself and assured me that he loved me just as I was. After awhile, I accepted that I would never be as amazing as him but that this was OK. Perhaps my brother has endured the same struggles. Our father is a difficult act to follow. But maybe my brother doesn't understand that our father loves him just as he is, and only wants his son to be well.
Later, at the hostel, writing in my journal, I thought hard about what my brother had said about his life over the past few days. He seemed to have a perplexing mix of qualities and attitudes. I doubted that I could explain him very well to anyone. I also understood that I was only hearing what he said about himself, and didn't know much about how he actually behaved on a day-to-day basis. I've heard it said that it is impossible to truly know another person. If I lived in Seattle and saw my brother on a regular basis, I would probably come to know him more fully. But we never reveal all, and there was much we might never learn about one another. Nevertheless, knowing and understanding him means more to me than knowing and understanding almost anyone else. My love for him is immeasurable.
