Golden Boy

   In an earlier blog I spoke about my Dad's struggle with Alzheimer's. Because of this, one of the things he is also involved in is an ongoing study being done by the University of Western Ontario. This study is designed to track people with  the disease and their families as they navigate the support systems available.

   What this has entailed so far has been a series of interviews involving Dad and myself and, most recently, my wife, Doralyn. They are spaced several months apart, in order to address any changes which might have occurred since the last visit. The interviewer attempts to determine how fully support services are being used, how effective they might be, and what roadblocks might have been encountered along the way. They also try and determine how other family members fit into Dad's support group. 

   One of these interviews was just this past month and, once again, the question around support from other family members came up. At the moment, I am the only one of Dad's kids living in London and the brunt of his support has most naturally fallen on my shoulders. I am quite alright with this and I explained to the interviewer that  I was certain that, when push came to shove, the others would be here in a flash.
   At least the ones in Ontario would be. I have a brother, Bob, who currently resides in Calgary and who would not be able realistically to show up and provide any kind of ongoing support. At this point, the interviewer began to ask questions about Dad's relationship with Bob.
   Theirs is a difficult relationship, and is made even more difficult by distance and by my Dad's inability to fully embrace the myriad of ways we now have to communicate. And, Bob, at best, is a difficult person to communicate with. Even in person. He is quite happy to respond to questions but is very tentative around carrying his end of the conversation. It can be a very exhausting experience!
   As the interviewer pressed on this issue, my Dad attempted to theorize as to how this whole issue of non-communication arose.

   Our mother passed away in 1973, after a long period of psychiatric, emotional, and substance abuse issues. During this period, as brothers, I think Bob and I somehow or other retreated into ourselves, as a bit of a coping mechanism. Shortly after she passed, Dad remarried. Our step-mum was a wonderful person but at the same time not terribly easy to get along with and soon she and Bob were at odds. At different times she and I were at odds as well but I don't think I had as much emotionally invested in that relationship and was therefore able to  maintain a more even keel. Dad has this as the period when Bob retreated, however, into his shell of non-communication.
   At this point, Dad theorized even earlier into our childhood. He believes the seeds of this non-communication were planted as Bob and I grew up and I took on the role of "Golden Boy"--the boy who could do no wrong, the boy the parents boasted about, the boy that won awards and excelled at school. In the face of all this, my Dad believes Bob kind of faded away, unable to cope with living in my shadow.
   These were all essentially my Dad's words. Over the years, as Dad and I have begun to relate to each other as adults, he has occasionally stopped me dead in my tracks with his insight.
   This was one of those times.

   I have spent many hours trying to analyze my relationship with my brother and have come up with a handful of problematic issues. In one fell swoop, Dad tied every single one of those issues into a neat little bundle and set it there right in front of us(me).
   I believe I was a crappy brother. I did glorify in the Golden Boy image that existed of me and really was very reluctant to share any of it. I was also not eager to let my brother's accomplishments overshadow my own.
   When we were kids, for the first ten years of our life or so we were moved constantly, from one city to another and from one house to another in each city. This meant having friends and stability for only a couple of years at a time, before we moved again. When we did move, for a little while we would each be the only friends we had. I was a little older, though, a little more outgoing and would soon make other friends. As soon as this happened, my brother got relegated to second(or third, or fourth)place.
   In other words, he was great to have around when I needed him.

   As I've grown older, I've had the opportunity to watch other sets of brothers(most notably my sons and stepsons) grow up. They have all had their clashes but there still remains such a strong sense of, well, brotherhood. They went to the same schools and had each other's backs. They had some of the same friends. They supported each other.
   I don't feel as though I dd this.
   My brother was a couple of years behind me in school. He had developed kind of a loner reputation, didn't have a lot of friends and dressed straight out of an army surplus store. When the time came for him to join me in high school I was mortified of the prospect of having to take him on as a responsibility. When that time came, though, they had opened up a brand new high school and, because of the new catchment area we were in, that's where he ended up going. This was a huge weight off of me, but it shouldn't have been. I should have almost been looking forward to showing my brother the ropes in the same high school I went to, just as his nephews have gone on to do.

   So, right at the moment, "Golden Boy" is not feeling too "golden". Bob and I have not had a serious talk about anything in over 35 years but I feel the need to talk this one out. More than anything I have this need to apologize. It could be that he sees everything much differently than I do. I hope this is the case.