Skip to main content

FAMILY - Essay


     “When you die, no one will come to your funeral” screamed Sal.

     “Oh, don't you worry about it!  I'm going to be cremated so you won”t have a funeral to go to!”

     One big happy family.  We used to be, not anymore.  No one would ever believe my two brothers and I were once very close.  All that changed when we married, but became more obvious when my father died.  Our family bond weakened.

     I could very well be dead and my brothers would never know it.  I's so tired of picking up the phone to see how they're doing.  I'm tired of hearing,”Oh that's boys for you.”  My own mother says, “My sons don't even call me on a daily basis.  I only hear from you.”

     My brothers only call me when they need something.  In most cases, they call because they're having what I call a fund raiser, an event to collect money and gifts for one of their children.  These children have more money than I will ever see in my life.  My older brother has four children and my younger brother has three.  I have none. Not because I don't want any, but because I've had trouble and had two miscarriages.

     Why did I pick up my mother's phone?  I was just about to leave.  She could have spared me the grief.  But no, my brother, Sal, reprimanded me as if her were the father and I his daughter.  He wanted to know why I didn't make it to his son's communion.  I had told him two weeks earlier I would be out of town on vacation and then business.  I happened to come home a day early for two reasons.  One to see my sick mother, and two to get caught up on my husband's business paperwork.  Sal couldn't understand why the paperwork was more important than his son's party.

     I paced the kitchen floor gripping the receiver.  “Listen, our business is our child.  We have to take care of it like you take care of your children.  The business is our number one priority.  Daddy taught me business always comes before pleasure.”

      You see, my father believed this because he was self-employed and made many sacrifices for his success. 

     I could feel my brother's hatred through the receiver.  “I don't know where you came from.  Family is more important.  You're never around.  Just wait when you're having something important!  You should've been at the party!”

     The argument continued with me losing my calm edge.  Like a sewer-mouth, I spewed all sorts of obscenities at him.  I lost it when he had the nerve to say it was my fault I had no children.

     How could my brother be so cruel with his reference to my death and the fact that I have no children?  I was slapped with his shallowness and had to pinch myself to see if I were dreaming.  He continued to insult me more when I asked if the savings bond arrived in the mail, “Oh thank you very much.  We're going to get really rich with that.”

     My mother picked up the phone at that moment and she said, “Hey wait a minute.  You're sister has no children.  She has given so much to your children over the years.”

     I added, “Yeah and what am I going to get in return?  Nothing.”

     “That's your problem.”

     His comments made me sick to my stomach.  I couldn't believe money was more important than our relationship.  I couldn't listen to him any longer.  My mother couldn't  even believe her ears.  I left in tears and cried for the next two days.  My brother never apologized.  We talk, but I wish things could be the way the used to be.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Photos

Dreams of the Brother – Essay

     Three in the morning and Randy woke up with a start, he'd been dreaming about cats again.  This was the fifth time in as many night.  They were getting to him, he'd always considered himself a dog person.  So,  he couldn't understand why he'd dream about cats.  The dreams were getting worse to.  It had started with just one cat, that's all.  One persistent, little Tabby, who wouldn't leave his dream that first night.  Now though, there were hundreds, thousands maybe.      They weren't nightmares.   Not really, not in the true sense.   They were just disturbing.   The cats never did anything, they just wouldn't leave him alone.   It was all becoming to much for him.   He decided to go downstairs and get a glass of milk.   Milk, he thought, wow far to close to a cat.   I think I'll have a soda.      In the kitchen, Randy's brother Jake was sitt...

My Life in Writing

     If you can imagine being in prison, you can imagine being a victim of some torturous experiment, then maybe you can imagine how I felt about school when I was growing up.  Being dyslexic, I spent most of my time in school away from the regular kids in special classrooms.  The classrooms were small, so you could get one-on-one attention.  It doesn't sound so bad when you I say the teachers were nice, understand and always smiling.  But when your walking down a crowded hallway in school, and you have to enter the doorway, to your special class, it is indescribable.  You know that whoever sees you enter that room is going to label you as inferior.  To say that gives a kid an inferiority complex is such an understatement.  Its like saying that Babe Ruth was an average baseball player.  Dyslexia is not such a serious disability, being segregated from everyone is.      I'm proud of the things I accomplishe...