Every time my brother leaves the country, which is often, he calls me. He also calls me when he’s on his way to Burning Man. Before he loses phone service.
They’re never long conversations. Just a quick “Hi, I’m on my way” and “I love you”.
Click.
Done.
Even with their brevity, the calls are comforting. I like knowing where he is going to be. And when he is coming back.
So Saturday afternoon, when my brother called as he was making his way across the desert, I asked my teen to pause “Grey’s Anatomy” (Season 9 on Netflix. Making our way through the series) so I could chat with her uncle for a few minutes.
When I came back in to the den to start watching again, my daughter asked me what the call was all about. (She has bionic hearing, when she wants.) I told her that Uncle Josh calls me every year when he’s on his way to Burning Man. He calls our parents also.
So we started talking about Burning Man and how there’s no cell phone service and no Internet access. And had I ever told her about the time eight years ago, when her great grandfather died, at the age of 91, and Uncle Josh was at Burning Man? His partner in San Francisco had to have somebody go and find him among 50,000 plus people to let him know so he could make it to the funeral.
Except that Josh didn’t make it to the funeral because it was foggy in Charlotte and his connection was cancelled so he and my sister-in-law took a cab. All the way from Charlotte to Fayetteville. One hundred and thirty seven miles. And that it cost $400. And that we texted back and forth during the funeral to try to make it seem like we were together.
When the cab pulled up outside my grandparents’ house on Mirror Lake Drive, everybody walked outside to greet my brother and sister-in-law. But I ran. As fast as my little legs could carry me. And in to the arms of my brother where I burst out in to these gigantic sobs. I couldn’t stop. And when I had to move out of the way so everyone else could hug him, I shifted over to my sister-in-law who wrapped her arms around me.
At this point, as I’m recounting the story for my daughter, reliving the moment of running to my brother as he got out of the cab, my eyes started welling up with tears.
I was surprised by my weepiness. And I think that she was too.
So I tried to explain to her, and to myself, why I was crying. Almost eight years after the fact.
What was it about that scene that still had the power to make me teary?
I think it’s because I knew that he would be able to share my grief better than anyone else.
Our bond is strong. And our history is unique. To us. We’re only 18 months apart. We shared our childhood. I dressed like him, until he wouldn’t let me. We played sock baseball for hours. Explored streams on family trips. We made our way through our parents’ divorce when we were in high school. We were in each others weddings. And he walked me down the makeshift aisle, and on to the back deck, when I got married a second time.
It doesn’t matter that we live on opposite sides of the country and don’t speak that often.
He’ll always be my brother. The only one I have.
Through my tears the other day, I decided to use this as a “life teaching” moment with my daughter. Even though she hates it when I do that. But I couldn’t help myself. She and her brother are two and a half years apart. And man, do they fight.
“You see, one day, you and your brother will be so close. You’ll be happy to have each other. There’s nobody else like that to you.”
I got the eye roll. Lesson over. And we moved on to the next episode of “Grey’s Anatomy”.
14 comments
Carol Cassara says:
Aug 27, 2014
I think you are so lucky to have a great friend in your brother, it has to feel so good. I am not so lucky and always notice when I see that heart-felt bond. Admire!
Jen says:
Aug 27, 2014
Thanks Carol! I do feel lucky.
Stuart Sheldon says:
Aug 27, 2014
Ask Uncle Josh who drove the RV back ALONE on zero sleep to help a brother out that sad weekend.
Jen says:
Aug 27, 2014
No way Stuart! I never heard that part of the story. You are a true friend. Love ya.
Sara says:
Aug 27, 2014
lovely ~ i always tell me brother that he is the only one that knows the whole story
Jen says:
Aug 27, 2014
I love the way you put that: “the only one who knows the whole story.” So true Sara!
Leah Masterson says:
Aug 27, 2014
I LOVE this. Every year I look forward to Josh looking forward to Burning Man!!!
Jen says:
Aug 27, 2014
Thanks Leah! I love seeing all of his many costume changes. Though I’m sure I don’t see ALL of them!
Patty Chang Anker says:
Aug 27, 2014
A lovely post – it’s moving that your brother thinks of you whenever he’s about to go off the grid, reminding you that he’s there, and what a model for his niece and nephew to follow 🙂
Jen says:
Aug 27, 2014
Thanks so much Patty. And thanks for stopping by. I hope some of the behavior wears off on my two teens. I’m sure that it will eventually.
Hotly Spiced says:
Aug 27, 2014
I have never heard of ‘Burning Man’. Is is a monument or a place? How lovely that you and your brother are so very close. My two older children are 20 months apart and they’re very close but they are also very different and have spent all their lives fighting. Neither will give in. Every time they start I say, ‘It will end in tears’. I’m sure your two children will one day be as close as you and your brother xx
Jen says:
Aug 28, 2014
Burning Man is a crazy festival in the Nevada desert! My brother’s been going to it for years. And I would like to go one year with him. (Check out this link: http://www.burningman.com/whatisburningman/) Maybe your kids will stop fighting when they’re older! We can always hope, right?
Sharon Greenthal says:
Aug 28, 2014
I totally get this – my brother and I have a unique and sometimes challenging relationship, but there’s no one who knows me better than he does. Really enjoyed this post.
Jen says:
Aug 28, 2014
Thanks Sharon! As Sara commented earlier, our siblings “know the whole story”.