Tag Archives: #relationships

family, Family relationships

The Day I Lost Tom Forever

It was the middle of the night when the phone rang. I woke up, startled, and stood up. An immense sense of dread washed over me; I was frozen. I couldn’t answer the phone. It was almost as if something was holding me back. Intuitively, I knew that Tom was gone. I didn’t need confirmation from the person on the other end of the line that it was over.

But what did I lose? What did I have? It was all a mystery to me then, as it is today—memories scattered to such a degree that I can’t even place them in chronological order. Wishes for a future never to be. Expectations never met. Questions never answered. All I could do was accept.

The terrible memories are the most persistent. However, with some thought, wonderful memories emerge and are more fulfilling. Where do I even start?

Today would be my brother Tom’s birthday. He would have been 84 today. But that was never to be; my brother died when he was 33 years old, and I was 20. We were just starting to form a connection with each other. It was nascent but had promise. I longed to know my brother, but circumstances were always against us.

I remember the news, but I don’t know where I was. Certainly, I heard it from my parents. My brother Tom, at 6’1” and husky build, seemed like a tower of health. However, he had gotten a cold that never went away, and when he went to the doctor, something rare in my family, simple blood work revealed a horrifying conclusion. My brother Tom had leukemia. The family GP recommended that he transfer his care to the University of Chicago. The local hospital was not capable of treating him. 

I was in my last year of college studying biology but had little medical knowledge. I planned to become a university professor and was interested in microbiology, not human physiology. The type of leukemia that my brother had generally responded to treatment. A cure recently developed, almost as if it was designed to help him. But then the reality of cancer hit.

When people talk about cancer, a particular veil of information is placed on it. No outsider understands the agony the individual and their family go through—perhaps that is for the best. There’s always an outpouring of sympathy and concern, but people move on. No one wants to hear lousy news, so the patient and the family tend to neutralize what they tell others. Sometimes, they do this to shield themselves. Tom was my first exposure to knowing someone on a close level who had cancer. This was my first time being upfront and in the center.

I was home from school for the summer, working as a Chicago Board of Education janitor. My father had used his clout in the board to get me the job. It was a summer program that hired college students to work in schools. This provided less expensive labor for the school’s many summer maintenance tasks and also provided students with jobs. I started these summer escapades years earlier and many years before I was eligible. You had to be  20 or 21 to get one of these jobs, and I started at 16. I was a tall kid but very much looked like a 16-year-old. I remember a union representative quizzing me about my age when he visited my job site. In my anxious state, I gave him a birth-date that aged me at 30 years. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

When my brother died, I remember one of the assistant school engineers coming to the funeral. I’m not even sure how he knew that my brother had died. I didn’t recall having much of a connection with this man. However, I still think of him fondly for his kindness in coming to comfort me that day. Acts of kindness do make a difference.

I wish I had more memories of my brother. I wish that we had done more things together. However, my brother was 13 years my senior. When I was 10, he was 23. His life was separated from mine.

I remember my brother Tom being big, strong, and dark in complexion. He had black hair from my mother’s side. I always liked my brother Tom. He was a kind soul, and I can’t remember any time that he made me feel bad.

The family consensus was that Tom was a bit on the morose side. This was based on his habit of sitting in his bedroom with the lights off while listening to the radio. However, I don’t know if that interpretation was wholly correct. I, too, like to sit in the dark. I don’t consider myself depressed; instead, I do it to tune out outside stimuli so I can think and concentrate. Was Tom the same?

One of my earliest memories of Tom is when he went off to college. I was around five then, and my parents and I drove him to Rensselaer, Indiana, so he could attend Saint Joseph’s College. I don’t have many memories of the college, but I remember being very impressed that he was going away to school.  

He had met a woman named Donna who worked with my sister Carol. She was some years older than Tom, and he fell madly in love with her. She was possessive and couldn’t deal with the fact that he was so far away. This meant that Tom was constantly returning to Chicago and not addressing his studies. I don’t know how long it took, I assume a year, but he failed out of school and returned home. Donna then dumped him. He gave away college for nothing.

He got an office job working for Union Carbide as he determined his next steps. He applied to multiple colleges, but many rejected him because of his academic failing at St. Joe’s. Eventually, one accepted him, Parsons College in Iowa. Tom attended Parsons and graduated with an excellent GPA, gaining a business degree. I remember attending his graduation with my parents. They were proud of his accomplishment. However, what I remember most was that it was a stormy day. At one point, I stood under a tree to shield myself. Suddenly, I felt tingling in my body and heard a massive crack and a boom above me. Lightning had hit the tree I was standing under, but I was unharmed. It was a miracle.

In this time frame, he met my sister Nancy’s friend, Lee. A romance developed, and then a marriage. I also remember that he was conscripted into the army at some point, or did he volunteer to shorten his time in service? 

I remember his wedding to Lee and his move to the Garfield Ridge neighborhood of Chicago. It was when he was married that he was diagnosed with leukemia. I recall visiting him at the University of Chicago hospitals. I remember how he went from being a hefty guy to skin and bones. I recall helping him into the car for a doctor’s visit. He was so skinny that his belted pants fell to his knees. I remember his voice going from strong to weak and raspy. I recall him being hospitalized and begging me for water, which he was not allowed due to an ileus.  I didn’t have the medical knowledge that I have now, and I was afraid even to give him a sip because I thought it would kill him. I still regret that decision. 

I also have a few other scattered memories of my brother. I remember him taking me to a James Bond movie when I was probably 12. I was thrilled to have him pay attention to me. My brother wrote me a few letters when I was in college, but I don’t remember receiving them. After my mother died, my father found some of the letters.  I suppose Tom didn’t have my address, so he gave them to my mom to mail to me, but life got in the way, and she forgot to do that. What a treasure it was to read them. There was no earth-shattering news, but they highlighted my brother’s wit and writing ability. It made me feel closer to him.

As I got older and our age difference narrowed, we slowly started to form an equal relationship. Sadly, his illness prevented any major progress in that area. With that said, I still have many warm thoughts for my brother Tom. I wish we had had more time together. I celebrate him and his life today. His birthday is February 8, 1941. Rest in peace, dear brother.

family, Family relationships, family traditions, Family Vacations, spending time with family

On Relationships

I must admit that I was excited.  I was excited to see my cousins and my nephews and nieces.  I was heading out for our annual reunion campout. Due to the health concerns of a family member, I have not camped very much this year, so I was delighted to accompany Violet the camper van on a road trip.  We would be driving to a campground in Michigan—two states over, but a world apart from my ordered life in the Chicago suburbs.

I would travel alone as my kids had other obligations, and my wife wasn’t feeling well.  I have gone on many solo camping adventures, so this was no big deal.  I’m a planner, and I love to plan my camping trips.  That planning is primarily a way for me to extend the adventure. 

Since Violet, the camper van is fully equipped; my forethought mostly centers around the food I should bring.  However, my planning desires often differ from what I will eat camping.  I’ll cook meals if I have a camping accomplice, but if it is just me, I usually eat the most basic meals possible. 

For breakfast, I brought a pound of bacon and a dozen eggs.  However, my actual camping breakfasts were peanut butter on an apple one day and yogurt with granola on the other.  The memory of the aroma of bacon and eggs drove me to buy those items, but the reality of frying stuff up and cleaning a greasy mess pushed me toward the no-cooking options. I did a little cooking for lunch and dinner to try out the new kitchen my friend Tom and I built this summer. But I even made those meals as simple as possible.

At the start of these events, my relatives hang out with their familiars. However, in short order, the ice is broken, then groups constantly form and reform. I only see my nephews and nieces on special events like holidays, and I see my cousins less than that. Spending time with them is a rare pleasure.

When I have such episodic contacts, I assess changes in both myself and the group, and I have noticed a clear positive trend as we have all aged.

I have never been a competitive person; I am more interested in improving myself. If I compete with anyone, it is me. However, I do remember times in my past when I was envious of others’ possessions or periods when I aspired to gain some material thing for the sole reason of image. 

Early in my career, I was invited by a more senior doctor to spend the weekend at his summer home, which was located directly on Lake Michigan.  He had a postmodern “cabin” that possessed its own private beach.  Beautiful views, cool mid-century furniture, exposed brick walls, and a giant walk-in shower so large that it didn’t require a door or a curtain.  Wow, I was impressed. This guy had class.  A type of wealthy class unknown to me growing up blue-collar. Additionally, I recall having dinner at his River Forest home.  I have been in mammoth houses, but this one was spectacular and looked like it was out of a 1940s movie. I had never had dinner at someone’s home, where a servant served me. 

I have always driven typical cars.  I’m not a gearhead.  However, when I turned 50, I decided that I was going to buy a “doctor’s car.”  My wife was somewhat shocked with this decision, but I felt I had to go with my desire.  Soon, I owned a hunter-green Mercedes.  Man, I thought everyone was looking at me the day I drove it out of the dealership’s lot.  I was super cool…for that day.  It didn’t take me long to realize that my Mercedes was just a box on wheels and that the only person impressed with my purchase was me. If you want to continually spend a lot of money on repairs, buy a Mercedes.  Soon, I got tired of my status car and returned to my old roots.  I traded in the Mercedes for a much more sensible Honda.

These material things have become less important to me as I have aged. I am no longer envious of the possessions of others; the only material things I seem to want are those that directly improve my life. That may be an upgrade to Violet the campervan or a new gadget I can study and learn about. I have as much enjoyment learning about a gadget as I do using it.

Initially, I felt that this change resulted from my years as a psychotherapist.  I treated so many wealthy and successful people who were dissatisfied and unhappy.  Most were on the road of acquisition. They bought bigger houses and fancier cars.  They upped their quota of exotic trips, often going multiple times yearly.  They increased their diners at exclusive restaurants. They indulged in all sorts of “self” experiences. These folks knew the art of subtly dropping their brags calmly and casually.  Somehow, this one-upmanship was supposed to make them feel better, but it didn’t.  The more they raced to buy and experience, the worse they felt.  It was an excellent lesson for me; these folks appeared to have everything on the surface but little to nothing where it counted.  Many had poor marriages and kids who couldn’t find time for them.  They had stressful jobs and constantly had to keep up with the Joneses, even when they didn’t need to or want to.

However, I now question if my work experience caused this change in me, and the family reunion campout highlighted that awareness.  Everyone at the campout seemed genuine and honest.  Our focus was on connecting and sharing, not bragging.  Although I witnessed this with everyone, it was especially evident with my cousins.  From my observation, they seem to be doing well financially and enjoyed the benefits of having some extra cash in their pockets.  However, they did things to enhance their retirement years, not to impress others. They had reached the same life conclusions that I had, but not by observing patients.  Instead, it appeared that this was a natural process of healthy aging.

We had several honest conversations that focused on the good and the less-than-good in our lives.  We discussed our adult kids, looking at their successes and challenges.  We explored relationships in our lives, both good and those that could use some improvement.  We were real people dealing with real life. Notably, there was no posturing, bragging, or subtle put-downs.  Instead, we were present to celebrate each other and acknowledge the importance of staying connected.

I judge my interactions with others based on my “aftertaste.”  How did I feel when I left the interaction?  Did I feel happy or energized?  Will I be excited to see that person again?  Or did I feel exhausted and defeated?  Did that person ask anything about me; was it all about them?  Was the conversation a one-way brag fest or an equally horrible “feel sorry for me” experience? I want to spend time with people where we elevate each other.  I like win/win scenarios. 

As I age, I think it is great not to care if someone doesn’t like me. It is empowering to be grateful for all of the incredible blessings that I have received in my life. It is a gift not to want more and more. It is amazing to have people in my life who, by their very presence, make my life better.

I have been fortunate to have been connected to many quality people over the years: cousins, siblings, my family, truly wonderful friends.  I will take those relationships anytime over a new Mercedes or a fancy lake house.  It is relationships that make life worth living.

Violet the camper van was excited to go on a road trip.