I’ve come to accept the fact that that the only person I can control is the proverbial “man in the mirror.” Further, those most effective in mentoring me have neither preached nor dictated; they’ve shared. Telling me their stories, relating experience, strength and hope—they’ve merely planted seeds…all the while knowing that the harvest was not theirs to schedule.

For whatever it is worth, what follows is gleaned from MY experience, strength…and hope.

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It was the ‘50s. The small black and white photo atop our dad’s dresser pictured two boys—youngsters. One carried the other on his back with a caption that read “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.” (I had no idea what it meant).

Our mother was more verbal. “Just remember,” she’d admonish…..”When I’m gone it’ll just be the two of you.” (This was her mantra from her first husband (our father) to her third spouse, The Thief). Mom never understood, through ten presidential administrations, that her wishing it couldn’t make it so. Or, maybe, yes….she did).

There was a time, you see, when Hal and I didn’t speak. I remember; he remembers; our kids remember. Yes, there was a time.

There was a day I didn’t enter his home. It was an ugly bitter era of rancor our mother winced at, but let play out. (She had no choice). Seems so long ago, but it wasn’t.

We were exchanging emails—each of us documenting our positions in electronic, dogmatic confrontation. I can’t speak for him, but back then I could have passed a polygraph laying it all at his feet.

I was wrong. He may have been too. It mattered not, but, frankly, I hadn’t yet learned that it’s better to be happy than right. Precious time passed.

And more time.

Then, one day, maybe eight years ago:

“I need a brother…..Want to meet?….No questions about the past.”

An awkward Caribou coffee begat another meeting…We went from breaking hearts to breaking bread…and over time from disharmony to true family. Heck, we needed each other! Absent impossible reconstructions of the past, without pro forma reciprocal apologies–but with just a fervent resolve to reunite: indeed, Martin and Lewis were together again!

I rarely think of those days any more. And yet H referenced these Dark Ages just Tuesday. In a good way. We were sitting around the dinner table—as family. He voice spoke in gratitude for today.

Hal recognizes, as I do, that we’re closer now than ever. He sees, as I do, that when we are at peace everyone around us thrives. And he knows that there was never a time, good or bad, when we didn’t love each other.

I’ve learned in my own life that ‘tis true: Love means never having to say you’re sorry.

And I’ve learned that never is an awful long time.

And I’ve learned that there is never a wrong time to say:

“Want to meet? No questions about the past. I need you.”

2 Responses to “TWO DIVIDED BY LOVE”

  1. Aunt Helen says:

    All I ask is that you give me a couple hours notice.
    Other than that I’m ready to go.

  2. Marc says:

    Nice blog B

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