He’s been there since I took my first breath. My big brother. My “Bubby”. My first playmate. My first friend. We were in cahoots on many occasions…but I was always the instigator. He was special. Always gentle…always sweet. He didn’t run and play like the other kids so he was happy to sit on the floor with me for hours…rolling the ball back and forth…playing with cars…building with blocks.
Every week, we went to this special place to play for an hour or so. There was a table with four doors…one on each side. You opened the door, stood inside, and someone closed the door after you. Then you could play with the objects on the table. Sometimes they would bring us cookies and milk while we stood there. I think I always knew this was a place that helped my Bubby, but I never saw him as anything other than the perfect brother.
I will never forget driving up Murdoch Avenue one day. Bubby and I were sitting in the back seat and I could tell my mom was crying…though she tried very hard to hide it. When we got home, she asked us to go play and she went in her room for a while. Later, when she was tucking us into bed, I asked her what was wrong.
“Oh, Sis…I just got some news today that was upsetting to me.”
“What was it, Mommy? Are you sick?” One of our neighbors had something called “cancer” and I was very afraid my mommy would catch it. Daddy said she could.
“No, sweetheart. You’re a big girl now. I can tell you. They told me today that your Bubby has Cerebral Palsy. They said he may never be able to drive a car or get a good job. He may be crippled his whole life.”
I didn’t know what to say to my mom because my Bubby was the same he had always been. I was growing up, but I didn’t have a concept of what life might look like for my brother.
After that, I was always my brother’s champion. I protected him from neighborhood bullies. I was one of the only people who could understand what he said. I interpreted for him and ran interference…so well, in fact, that I had to learn to back off a little so he could learn how to do things for himself.
He went as far in “special school” as he could…8th grade. It took him 12 years, but he finally earned his GED. He was so proud. We were so proud for him. They sent him away for “vocational training” but he wasn’t very successful at any of the jobs they tried to teach him…mainly because Mom insisted he come home every weekend. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to succeed. She just wanted him to be home where she had control over what he did and saw.
He worked in the Sheltered Workshop for 25 years or so, and when Mom retired, she found it easier to just keep him home with her. He was good company for her. She devoted her entire life to him…taking care of his every need.
Then she died.
He came to Colorado to live near me because, by the Grace of God, he was accepted into a wonderful program for adults who are “differently abled.” When I had the opportunity to come to West Virginia to live, I offered to “bring him home” with me. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He told me he has a life in Colorado…a life he never would have had if he had stayed in West Virginia. As a matter of fact, he told me one time…if I hadn’t have brought him to Colorado, he would be in a nursing home. And that is the God’s truth. He would have. He now enjoys as independent a life as he can live. He has a roommate. They have support staff come in frequently to make sure they are taking their medicine, check on their finances, get them to medical appointments, take them shopping, help them with meal planning.
He loves his roommate. He told me once that he never had a best friend before, but his roommate is his best friend. That warms my heart more than you can know. To rest secure in knowing he will always be taken care of, that he is happy and as healthy as he can be, that he has a happy and fulfilling life…well, that is such a blessing to me.
My friend Jan shared this video on Facebook last night and I cried when I saw it. Just like I cry when I see someone who is differently abled and they succeed at something we so often take for granted. I know how hard it is to do “normal” things. I saw how much work my brother put into learning how to take care of himself, cook his meals, do his laundry, keep his room clean. To see these kids and young adults expressing themselves with joyous abandon…being exactly who they are…take me or leave me…just warmed the cockles of my heart.
I’m missing my big brother and all my Colorado peeps something awful right now. As of the 3rd, it’s been a full year since I’ve seen them and I’ve never gone that long. I do not feel it is safe, or fair, to go visit them now. I certainly would not want to make any of my loved ones ill….especially my brother. He has become much more frail the last few years and I must protect him from all this if I can. I pray there will be a time soon when we can see each other. Until then, we will have to be satisfied with phone calls.
❤️
“The Lord said to him, “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.””
Exodus 4:11-12 NIV