Speaking Of Grief
Today, every one of my siblings are together. For the first time since the day our mother died 15 years ago they are sitting at a table. swapping memories, laughing at old jokes and holding space for our mother who would have been thrilled that they are together. I ache that I am not with them. I feel sad and angry that I am not where I belong. I wish they had told me. Maybe I could have gotten a last minute flight...maybe. The family black sheep, the first boy after three girls, the fearless (perhaps reckless is a better description) playmate of my childhood is dying. 4th stage lung cancer, just like our father. God, he had hated our dad and yet he had carried on the family tradition of abandoning families, lying and manipulation, and that beaut of a characteristic....addiction (although, admittedly, his drug of choice has been far less destructive than that of our father's). I don't know if he's seen the errors of his ways. I don't know if he is still and forever the...