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| Tom's photo of a barn at sunset. |
It’s late at
night and there is a police officer at my door.
My heart is in my throat because I have 4 children, ages 14 to 22, and
it takes a moment for me to remember that they are all safely asleep in their beds. I can tell it is bad news by the
look on his face. My husband and I stand
and face him in the living room of our large old Victorian cottage on the lake as he delivers
the news. I can feel myself shaking
uncontrollably but will myself to remain still.
My brother, Tom's car has been found
burned up with a body inside. They do
not know if it is him for sure and will have to wait for his dental records. The horror of it does not completely sink in
at this point, but I am hearing my brother’s voice on the phone several weeks
earlier begging me for help. I had no meaningful
words for him because his current problem was just one more heavy boulder being
lobbed into my already sinking ship. In
fact, I must admit that his erratic behavior over the years had made me
slightly fearful of him. So, I did
nothing. Deep inside of me, I know I am
partially to blame. I had turned my back
on him because I had nothing left to give.
My dad, who
held us all together, has been gone for over 10 years, taken down by
leukemia. My mom, always very demanding,
has been my responsibility since then and the family business started by my
grandfather over 90 years ago is failing.
My crumbling marriage has become a source of shame that takes all of my
remaining energy to keep a secret. My
brother’s problems, which were always accompanied by a request for more of my
mother’s money, were not high on the list of things that needed my immediate
attention. Now it seems to be too late.
In a few
days it is confirmed that the body inside my brother’s car was indeed his. There was also a gun found in the
wreckage. It appears that he poured
gasoline on himself and the remaining belongings that he had in his car, lit it
all on fire and shot himself. My husband is asked to view the destroyed vehicle because I cannot.
My mother
appears to have little reaction to it all.
She too has become exhausted by years of his demands and careless
lifestyle. There is no death notice in
the paper and no real funeral. As we
pick out his casket at the funeral parlor, the funeral director asks if we want
to pay an extra $100 for a body bag. The
crassness and irony of all of this is too astonishing for me to even process.
There is
only my mother, my husband and I along with my two older children shivering in
the cold late November air at the gravesite.
I have no recall of the few words spoken by the priest. The only vivid memory I have is of my oldest
son stepping forward in the snow and placing a beautifully mounted Tiger Swallowtail butterfly on my brother’s casket. He had a special relationship with my brother. They collected butterflies. It was something my brother had done all of
his life and then shared with my son and they had caught this one together. This final gesture from my son has broken my
heart. I had failed to make a meaningful
connection with my only brother while my oldest son had succeeded.
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| Holy Hill in Hubertus, WI |
It takes me 7 years to make find a way to make peace with myself. I go to my favorite forest and start to walk. As I wander, I collect things along the way that he would have loved. Stones, leaves, bark and feathers fill my hands. I reach a spot in the forest high on a hill where there is an opening in the trees. I take out a small photo of him along with the sage and my eagle feather that I have brought with me. I look out at the expansive view and say a prayer of love and thanks to him. I burn some sacred sage and bless myself and this spot as the smoke floats up into the blue sky. I take the items that I have gathered in his honor along with his photograph and place them in a special spot on the forest floor under a protecting bush. It is time for me to let go of the sadness and embrace the love. I whisper my words of blessing and walk on to what lies ahead.
My brother
has been gone for 20 years now. He would have been 71 years old this month. I have
made peace with his passing and with our relationship. I have a beautiful relationship with the
daughter that he never knew and her 2 young sons. That dark time and all of its misery are in
the past. What always remains and shines
through the darkness if you take the time to look, is the gift.
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| Tom's light in the forest. |
I am aware
everyday of the gifts that my brother shared that were so hard for me to recognize
at the time. I would like to think that
we are bonded now in spirit in ways that we failed to be so many years
ago. He had a wicked sense of humor and
a gift for laughter and fun. His
creativity was boundless and his photography astonishingly beautiful. Most of all his love for Golden Lake equaled
my own.
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| Ice boat at sunset. |
After holding
on to the thousands of slides he took over the years, I have given them to his
daughter for her to share with her sons. I had intended to scan and share them
in some way, but I have my own creative path to follow and it is time to do so
with all of my heart. I did manage to
scan 4 of them before I let go of the project.
I share them here with you and
hope that my brother feels my love and appreciation for him and for the passionate creative spark that we shared.
I will continue to carry the torch.
