The Other Sibling

My parents have informally adopted another child. The relationship started out as this person was doing work for them on their home. They spent many hours of many, many days with him in their space. They talked often. They found his approach to life entertaining (more later on). His mother passed away. They helped him through his grief. They became a surrogate parent for him. They are connected.

His approach to life? A sexist, homophobic, machismo Italian (the last two are his words). While they don’t agree with his views, my parents gently tolerate them and don’t speak out against them. They act the same way towards their biological children and loved ones as well.

My youngest brother and I live within 15 minutes of their home. I currently rent the home I live in from them. As dutiful landlords, my parents check would check in regularly to see how I (and the house!) was doing. I reached out occasionally, or when I needed something. My brother was better about texting with them and sometimes calling.

The interloper would spend time with them every day when he was working on their home. And he would call them or stop by regularly just to visit with them and see how they were doing. To be honest, he was a much more attentive child than either my brother or I was.

This went on for many, many years. A year and a half ago, my mother had cataract surgery. While the surgeon was well reputed, the day of her surgery, he was running behind and cut too aggressively in her eye. This triggered a systemic bodily reaction that caused her immune to system to go ballistic and her eyes essentially to stop working. She went to doctor after doctor who diagnosed with her being blue-eyed and fair skinned, and told her to wait it out. My mother is a very strong woman. She ignored them and kept looking for a new doctor. She was referred to the eye doctor who specializes in the rare and unseen diseases who figured out what was going on. For a year she lived in darkness and rage at the world around her. I didn’t know what she was going through because I didn’t check in. While her world dimmed and her anger increased, the interloper was there for her. He checked on her, he listened to her, and he provided the comfort a dutiful child should. After steroid implants and regular steroid injections, she can see pretty well most days. However the vision she should have will never be there.

After my parents’ car accident, I vowed to be there for them every step of the way. I am great in a crisis (that other people are experiencing). I stayed with my mom her first week home. I drove to pick up my father from the trauma center. I set up a bed downstairs for them, I made sure we got all the supplies they needed to function. I took them to every single appointment and spent hours each day with them for their first month at home. Now that they are doing better, I don’t check on them on the days I don’t see them. I don’t call them. I sometimes text them. I am great in person, and terrible when I am not physically present. I don’t know how to be that way.

The interloper still checks on them and visits with them. They just like his company. He has been respectful with my renewed presence. However there are times when he asserts himself. He has proclaimed that he will be the one to take them to get their new car. It’s my Dad’s birthday on Saturday, and HE will be taking them to dinner.

I sat to write this piece to perhaps demonize him or figure out how to remove him from their lives, however as I write, he is a better child than any of us are in terms in spending time with them, checking on them, and just being there for them. The way to get him out of their lives is for me to take that space in their lives.

I also have to change the way I maintain my relationships. I don’t check in with my friends, while they check in with me. I don’t reach out and share my life while they share theirs. I prefer to be a hermit, and then feel sad that I don’t see the people I care about very much. I should take some lessons from the interloper about how to connect with the people who are important to me — it seems he is a good teacher.

Photo by Nienke Burgers on Unsplash