For all of my life I have loved my cousin Jack. Though I love all of my cousins he tends to stand out. We are kindred souls who have, when the chips down come through for each other often. Not in big spectacular ways but in small ways that looking back often made the difference between success and failure, between great overwhelming pointless struggle and overcoming the odds.
He had a birthday a couple of days ago. Eight years my senior he has often been the example I have followed when I wanted to learn to be a better person. The things he has taught me by example have served me well and helped me overcome many of the challenges and heart breaks I have faced.
This is our story from my perspective. I tell it with his full permission he will read it here for the first time along with you. We don't talk about it much, as wordy as I can get when I am writing I am not much of a talker and neither is he. Our bond comes from small wordless actions that have great meaning to each other. It is a bond so real that it can be felt be others.
When I was small he was my sun, my moon and the stars in heaven. He built my first sandbox, took me sledding for the first time, taught me to ride a bike. When my own clumsy feet caused me to take a header down the stairs it was Jack who caught me in his arms before I could hit the cement floor. When I fell down an 80 foot hand dug well on our grandfathers farm it was Jack who rode the well diggers swing to pluck me from the cold water, the fact that he couldn't swim never occurred to him. He was my hero, my night in shining armor, my entire world.
As we got older our friendship changed. He got his drivers license and his first car, when I was still in elementary school. My mother cautioned me not to be hurt Jack was a teenager now he didn't have time to hang out with little girls, my heart was broken, the time we spent together meant alot to me and I was faced with the idea it was not nearly as important to Jack. Grade school was not easy for me, back then I was taller than my classmates by a full head reaching the height I stand now when I was ten. I felt klutzy and awkward compared to them, I got teased and made fun of alot. Jacks presence helped me cope with that. My mothers words left me feeling very alone. But, my mother was mistaken. A few days after rolling his 57 T bird out of the garage where he and his dad had spent many hours bringing back to life he was on the doorstep to take me for a ride in it. I was overjoyed and so proud to sit in the passenger seat as we toured the small Peninsula where we lived.
Two years later I rode in that same car on my way to his house after my father. only 52 years old died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. For that night I would stay with he and his sister Kathy, away from the grief and suffering going on at my house. We rode silently as I tried to digest this new world I had been thrust into. Jacks strong presence behind the steering wheel and the concern on his face when he looked at me let me know he got it and he was there for me. It was to be the first of many losses for both of us. Loses so soul splitting that at times, it feels as if the physical body cannot survive the pain. It has made each of us stronger in the end I think.
From then on every so often, if I needed a lift from an after school event Jack was my chauffeur. There is nothing quite as good to a 12 year old as her tall blond older cousin with the laughing blue eyes rolling into the parking lot in his cool car for all of her friends to see. For a few minutes they worshiped the ground I walked on and wished they were me. I ate it up. When I needed someone for "father, daughter" events it was Jack who stepped in and I was the envy of all of my friends.
The years passed and we grew older. For a time the military took Jack far away from me. I sent him birthday cards, and at Christmas a three pound coffee can full of cookies. Then word came that he was ill and may not live, schock, turned to fear and then to sadness as I contemplated the idea, the chance I would have to find my way in the world without him, and let him go to find his peace. I was 15. His mother flew to Texas to be with him, with her she carried a card I had made by hand into which I had poured every bit of love I could find and did not have words for, into pictures with my new found artistic talent. Though I have gone on to some success in this, I still consider that card my greatest work of art. That some 30 years later he still has it framed and on his wall says that it is true.
After weeks of uncertainty Jack survived and came home to us thin and fragile. I often got off the school bus at his mothers house to sit by his bed side to help him pass the time and make him laugh. Slowly the light in his sky blue eyes returned along with his strength. Life went on for us and more years passed.
Our lives took us off in different directions, from Ketchikan to Seattle to the mountains of the Olympic Peninsula, from the heights of great joy to the depths of total and utter despair I lived my young life with all the promise and potential it had to offer. In the quiet moments I would think of my childhood, my great grandmother and of Jack. For many years my family kept a secret from me, they are good at keeping secrets.
Jack faced his own challenges and they were great. I would hear about them through the family grape vine. When I was home I would try to visit, but when I knocked on the door there was no answer. Through other sources I learned that his life continued to deteriorate. I faced the fact that I could lose him, I wanted fix it, but I couldn't. I could only trust him to do what was right for him, even if I didn't like the outcome It was the hardest thing I had faced in my young life, the idea that I couldn't wave a magic wand and save him. I would repeat that lesson many times in my life in different forms but that first time was the hardest. My only choice was whether to cut him loose and close my heart to protect myself, or continue to love him as I always had and risk the consequences. I chose the later. He had several brushes with death over the next few years I would hear the highlights on my visits home,
Then came one memorial day weekend, the cousins planned a camping trip to my farm. We are a family of humble roots, our ancestors for centuries made their living from the land and seas first of their native countries and then the great pacific northwest. We are tight knit and close in many ways this is good and in other ways not so.
The surprise of the weekend was the appearance of Jack. He had embarked on a mission to change his life only a few short weeks before. He must have known the great challenge he would face yet he came. My family doesn't do change well, in fact they have a bad habit of fighting it tooth and nail this was no exception.
As the bonfire rose in the dark sky Jack stood just at the edge of the fire hands shoved in his pockets. I could almost see the white knuckles of his clenched fists as he faced his demons. As the evening wore on the situation became much worse as two of my cousins, Jacks two best friends since childhood began to give him a hard time attempting it seemed to get him to go back to what had been before. Each of these barbs hit home and Jack would visibly wince. I do not believe I have ever been so angry, I wanted in some way to defend him to deflect those very real blows but anything I could do would only make it worse. He stood his ground silently not fighting back but not backing down. I gained a new respect for him that night and I learned something that has never left me. He had allowed them their say knowing it was coming from their own fear and loss of a camaraderie that had been formed over many years he was taking it because he loved them. He was determined to move forward with or without them, how they handled it was their choice but he made it clear that night, at least to me, that no matter what they were his friends.
The following morning dawned bright in my river valley, I was up at dawn to get the farm chores done across the meadow down near the river I could see Jack working to build our breakfast fire. he didn't know I was watching, his face was grim with a kind of agony that comes when the brain is fighting with itself, when every step forward takes every ounce of strength and willpower a person has.The odds didn't look good from where I sat I wondered if somehow I could tilt the odds in his favor. I rolled it around in my head as I went about gathering eggs and feeding the rabbits.
That night I silently joined him in his change, if he would notice or not but it was the only way I could come up with to give him some moral support. He did notice. as the night wore on we gravitated to the river, sitting on the big flat rock looking over the ever moving water we started to talk, to catch up, an outsider would have not seen anything special in our talk there were no deep emotional revelations, no heart rending confessions, not even an acknowledgement of what I had done. They were all there but left where they belonged unspoken. We watched the sunrise over the river valley still talking, neither of us willing to end our time together. Our bond was renewed. It was a turning point for Jack and more surprisingly for me as well. Neither of us have ever looked back.
Many years have passed since those days, Jack and I have both moved on. For along time I would get a phone call once or twice a week, a half hour of small talk, a small exchange of strength and a reminder of our bond to help us each face the world and navigate the new changes that had come for both of us. Slowly overtime they dwindled as we each gained traction. Jack never went back, I doubt his road was smooth or easy but we never discussed it. When the pain of loss was so great I wanted to curl up and die Jack was there on the phone making small talk reminding me of happier times gently reminding me he was there and I wasn't alone. Never pushing and never telling me what to do but trusting in me to do what was right for myself and loving me with an open heart even when I knew he didn't agree with my choices. When I retreated into isolation he silently waited for me to emerge never pushing, or demanding although I am told he worried about me some. It was in fact that knowledge that shook me out of my self imposed prison and got me to risk opening my heart and start actually caring about others again instead of just going through the motions so I could quickly retreat back into my head while the world went on around me. it hasn't been smooth, I've had a few setbacks, nor has it been easy but I will get there given some time.
Over the years I have been the fortunate recipient of many grand and heartfelt gestures in fact my life has at times overflowed with them I appreciate and am touched by every one of them. But it is the small things that mean the most, the respect for the decisions I make about my life, the total acceptance of my strengths and weaknesses, and the shear enjoyment I see in your eyes with just who I am no matter the flaws I may see in myself, to you I am perfect as I am , the message I get loud and clear when I am in town and give you a call that you are so looking forward to seeing me you are willing to drop everything whenever I can fit it in. It's the little things that cost us nothing, that are often overlooked, that mean so very much. They are the greatest gifts we have to offer, you taught me that Jack. I look for that in others and I give it where ever and when ever I sincerely can. From the bottom of my heart Thank you, my life is so much better because of you.
Happy Birthday, enjoy every moment, wring every bit of happiness you can from each day. You know I am always there in spirit cheering you on, just as I know you are always there for me.
Love you.