Yesterday my brother sent me a text message suggesting that I approach a situation (that I had already resolved to my own satisfaction) differently. And not so long ago, I would have actually revamped what I had already decided to match my brother's instruction. You see, though he is younger than I by 2 years and 1 month, he has long had a knack for comprehending situations from the root up. He's been keenly gifted with the ability to separate garbage from trash, and completely trashy from potentially classy.
Now, that's not to say that we have not had some arguments, periods of not speaking, and even some rock-em-sock-em epic battles.
But from time to time-actually pretty regularly, I'll think about the time, almost 18 years ago now, that our mother was dying. The erratic and deadly cells of CMML had shut my mother's renal function down to 18%, but she still found the strength to remind my brother and I to take care of each other and to do our best for ourselves and the world.
She died later that same day.
Edythe Urquhart Joe, RN, September 20, 1935-August 26, 2000
Neither my brother or I are in the habit of breaking our promises.
And besides, somehow I think my mother still continues to nourish our lives.
Nota Bena: Photo, Easter, early 1970s, l-r, my brother Gary, Mommy, and myself (Daddy was the photographer), Coatesville, PA
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