Today is Mother’s Day, and as much as I dearly loved my mother and how she raised me to become a caring, Christian woman, I am writing a letter to my brother as an act of respect for her. You see, my brother and I have been estranged from one another for over twenty years. The only time I know he is still alive is when I receive his Christmas card. As of this past Christmas, he informed me that he would not be sending a Christmas gift either. There have been times when I needed to talk to him as my big brother, but I know that my phone call would be met with platitudes and cold answers, never touching on what has really happened to us or our relationship.
My dear mother was the glue, the love, that held our minister’s family together. When she passed away, that love faded into the woodwork of our parsonages, as our father busied himself with pastoral duties and my brother and I pretty much grew up without a father. I strongly believe my brother has never gotten over losing our mother, because he told me the only thing he remembers about our family life is our beloved dog, Hector, an Eskimo Spitz. He became estranged from my father and I when he became a geopetrologist and traveled the world looking for and finding oil.
Because of his exemplary abilities, he found oil in many places, as well as much wealth. I wonder sometimes if his many journeys were not a part of the demise of his first marriage. When my husband passed away, he asked for a picture about life changes that I had in my kitchen as he told me he was getting divorced. That was the only time I have ever seen my brother cry, not at our mother’s funeral, not at our father’s funeral, and not at my husband’s funeral.
He seemed to close the door on me when he first got married, because he told me he was ashamed of my being a teacher. He thought that I had wasted my abilities with children rather than using those abilities to become a medical doctor. He didn’t understand that there are so many more rewards in seeing “the light bulbs go off in children’s minds” than having more money than you could ever wish for. I have always loved interacting with my students and witnessing what they become as adults. I have seen how the power of music can encourage a child’s growth in so many different avenues of their lives. Their souls shine brightly when they realize they have a special gift to give to the world; that gift is love.
I have been through many things in my lifetime: the loss of my only child, the loss of three husbands, and two cancer diagnoses. The only time my brother offered any resemblance of compassion was at my second husband’s funeral. He told me that he came for the funeral because his boss told him he had to and then ordered him a plane ticket. Once he arrived, he said, “I doubt I’ll have two people at my funeral.” He was shocked when he saw 200 of my school colleagues there to show their respect for me the day after Christmas. He helped me with the funeral expenses and then drank two bottles of wine himself that night in front of the fireplace.
I have wanted to share so much with him, but he has remained aloof and withdrawn. People do not seem to matter to him, whereas, I need them. That estrangement was expressed more vividly by the fact that I have never met his second wife. I fear that one day I will get a phone call from a woman I have never met, stating that he has passed away. If it seems that there are some anger issues between the two of us, there definitely are, and I hope one day to come to grips with that pain. The problem, as I see it, is that he has to be a part of the change.
We had the same beloved mother, but you would not know it by the lack of communication between the two of us. She wanted us to be in each other’s lives and to remain strong and caring for one another. I have been blessed by many of mother’s traits and talents and a few from my father. My brother, on the other hand, used his intelligence to find oil and make a lot of money, but what else has he found in his life? Did his career give him any of God’s most precious gifts: love, compassion, faith, empathy, and a love of his fellowman? Does he have hobbies, and will they carry him through to the end of his days? When God calls him home, will God describe him as a good and faithful servant? What has happened to his faith we were both raised on?
I am more than my brother will ever know. I am a teacher, an author, a composer, a painter, a poet, a musician, and a well-educated person who strives to use her abilities to bring peace, hope, love, light, and grace into the world. Jesus Christ is the center of who I am, and my life has been filled with the love and respect of my students. As my mother wisely taught me, those students are my children in lieu of my dear baby that I lost. I do not feel that my life as a teacher was a waste, because it has been my deepest privilege to see my students become bright, contributing members of society.
Our beloved mother is my grounding angel, and I will be forever grateful to her for all the things that I have become. In the voice of a child, I say, “Thank you, Mommy, for being the most beautiful caring mother any child could ever have had. You gave me life, pushed me to take my first big steps into the world, and encouraged me to make mistakes so that I would grow into a mature adult with your unconditional love. You were my inspiration to become a Christian, who puts the needs of others before herself and who strives to be a child of God in her thoughts, words, and deeds.
With God’s grace, I still need my brother to be in my life. I need a companion, a friend, a man who knows that all things are possible with God, and a brother who realizes that only by loving one another can we build bridges to each other, rather than walls to keep others out. I need the brother who carefully held me when I was two months old to keep holding onto me not because I am weak, but because I am strong, strong in our mother’s love and strong with Christ walking beside me. I miss you; reach out, and realize as I do, that with love, all things are possible. I love you, David, and I always will.
Anna Hartt
