Today is my brother's birthday. He is 65. I haven't spoken with him for thirteen years. His choice. I sent a birthday card, as always. I know he is okay, because a couple of times a year he sends me a card, and when I send one to him it doesn't get returned. He's had a hard life. He was an alcoholic at sixteen and a non-function drunk until his mid thirties. He was married once for less than a year, but as far as I know has not lived with a woman or married or had kids. He's sober, as far as I know. I understand that every day when he gets up he has to decide not to drink all over again. I hope he has friends and fun times and a meaningful life. He lives a long way away, and wants it that way. I respect his choice to be unavailable, partially because he was always unavailable, secretive and unknowable. I'm transparent, he's opaque. When I think of him now I wish him well but feel nothing. To me that is tragic. I have no other siblings.
He's taught me that thinking you can know another completely is a delusion. I make great efforts to know myself, and am mostly unsuccessful. He's taught me that life is complex, and different people need different lives to survive. I don't judge him. He's taught me that love must be worked at or it dissolves. Relationship takes great effort. He's taught me that I am my own protector. And what protection means is individual. He's taught me that knowing the one you love is safe in the world is enough. You really can't ask for more.
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