It’s always a little bittersweet when I have the twins for the weekend. I love to have them over, but when they leave there’s a bit of a moment where my heart breaks. It should be my brother, not me. Several times after they have left I found a quiet moment by myself and just cried for myself, for them, for my brother, for so many reasons. It’s painful and cathartic and yet I often feel happy or at least okay with the world for a short while afterwards.
You know, sometimes in counseling, my therapist says something akin to “it’s a privilege to be on this journey with you” and I have no idea what he’s talking about 🤣. Why anyone would consider all my bullshit something of a privilege to hear, I haven’t the foggiest. I mean I don’t even want to hear it, haha! So, I’m not gonna say I fully understand, but the other day, I think I kinda felt something similar.
Not only has it been a blast to design a birthday experience for the twins (and yeah I use that language intentionally – I design experiences for kids and I love it!), but I get to put the phone on silent and be fully present and play games with them (or even just have a few delicious dinners together). I know exactly how much it means to them, to have Rich and I engage, be there, even if they don’t realize it yet. I know because at their age, I desperately wanted that as a kid too. Eddie and his girlfriend C split when they were around 7 years old, and I remember how A looked different after that, lonelier and quieter. I empathize with that look, because even though my dad was around, he really wasn’t present much of my childhood.
So, I text them randomly all the time… How is school is going? Where are they at in the game they’re playing? What makes it fun? (I always inject some analysis of game play lol.) When are they coming to visit me? And when they visit, we try new experiences or restaurants like the toy and mini museum or a sushi restaurant. My mom and I took them birthday shopping and A followed me around and bought the same outfits I did lol and E and I freaked out over some sweet Batman figurines we came across. He told me his dad had purchased some for his birthday last year, so of course those went in the shopping bag. : )
I know it’s not all fun and games. C already texted me to reach out to A when she was having a particularly sad day. I hope I said the right things and I am still working up the courage to have some deeper conversations with them, maybe when they’re older, maybe next year, it can wait for now. I try to bring up my brother casually at times, relate stories from when we were kids. I don’t want them to think I’m ignoring what happened or forgetting their dad. They’ve seen my artwork about and for him, and heard my carefully crafted words, both at the celebration of life and funeral. I want them to know at my place, and around me, they can talk about their dad whenever they want to.
Reflecting, to be able to connect and be present with them – my god, it’s a privilege. It’s also a responsibility I deeply care about, one that came with a heavy cost, but one I’m grateful to be able to take on in some capacity. To support them and be there for them…I am truly humbled. It’s strange that prior to my brother’s death I struggled to find the time and opportunity to connect with my nieces/nephews. They seemed like they had everything they needed and I figured I’d get around to it eventually. How radically my mindset has changed. I have an opportunity to make a real difference in their lives and it’s a transformative experience for me. One I absolutely did not see coming.
I desperately want to treat this relationship with care and I’m pretty scared of screwing up at times. But I hope, in the end, they realize I will always be here for them if I have any control over it and if they need me. I know I will make mistakes, but I will do my best to care and support and show up. And if that gets across loud and clear, I can fucking die happy. And yeah, what a privilege that is, indeed.