Sunday, December 25, 2005

He crawled up the stairs...

Today is Black Family Holiday for me, Christmas for most, and I had to witness something very sad...That's been the norm for the past 6 years and this year has brought the same sadness...I watched my young and once agile older brother crawl up the stairs. His thin legs can no longer withstand the weight of his 37 year young frame. The marrow in his bones is now hard and every movement he makes makes pain rush into his space. When I was younger, I used to be so angry at him for sitting around while my tired mama waited on him hand and foot. She fixed his plates, bought and washed his clothes, cleaned his quarters, purchased his cars, hurt for him when pride kept him from hurting aloud, all the while enduring his unappreciative remarks and false accusations that were created to make her feel the pain that surfaced in his chest whenever he thought about the father who failed him and his poor judgment that ruined him. A transfer of energy that I witnessed for years. Now, when she fixes his plates, buys and washes his clothes, cleans his quarters, purchases his cars, hurts for him when physical and mental pain forces him to hurt aloud...I just sit quietly and long for those days when my brother could lift me with his laughter, fly me above his head like superwoman and then stand to his feet with his position as "My Big Brother" filling the room and walk up the stairs towards possibilities and promise. I'm quiet now. I ask what I can do for him now. I ask my mama what foods he can eat to keep him with us longer just in case she has to go home. I act like I don't see his swollen feet, legs, and hands. I smell the sadness every time I am home. I am home and there is sadness in my heart on Black Family Holiday. The gift I would give to him is hindsight in the present 10 years ago. That way, my brother could walk beside me when I walk to hug my mama. My brother could look at me and tell me that not only is he thankful to be breathing, but he is happy. My brother could fly me above his head with his feet and hands like I was superwoman, toss me against a wall, hug me with warmth and not pain, make his own plate, clean his own quarters...just be my Big Brother and not...what he has become..."My head is filled with dreams of my handsome king and my days are spent by his side-singing songs of love...I help my mother care for my brother..." and fear the day when I must become my Masai mother...She is not strong...she is strength. She's the mother of the community. She carries a heavy my Norma Jean (My MawMaw)...she cares for everyone, their children, her children, her sisters, her, I was put here by her mama to care for her...I am Tiny's gift to her and she and my brother are the Creator's gift to me...So, I thank HER for the made plates, bought and washed clothes, silences, sight, and all...sight...I saw...I heard, I watched, I cried as I saw my big brother crawl up the stairs while his pride suffocated his voice and kept him from crying out from he crawled up the stairs...


At 9:00 AM, Blogger AnanaJohari had said was, uh...

your painful & precious experience will be meant to help others. someone told me that during the worst experience of my life and i didnt believe them.

they also said, "the road to being an elder is not an easy one, but if you stay strong you will make it so that others can learn from you how to make it"

i believed them. im not an elder yana and i cant imagine what you are going through i just know that i am here for you if you need an ear or a strong hug :)

your sis,

At 1:34 AM, Blogger Sarah had said was, uh...

this is beautiful and saddening and difficult and emotional.


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