I learned today that another one of my “birth” brothers has died – that he died yesterday.
He was much older than I. He was in the USAF and then married and out of the house by the time I was 6 or so, so my relationship with him was distant, but we “sort of” kept in touch. Moreso than other family members, anyway.
I remember, when I was very, very small and he was home on leave, being fascinated by his blue eyes. Our father’s eyes were a sort of hazel-blue that would change with mood and clothing – mine are similar except they change to green – but John had gaslight-blue eyes. Sinatra eyes. They drew you in.
His was a very sad life. He was treated cruelly as a child, and not just by the mad patriarch who got us all in one way or another. He was rejected by many in the family and left rather confused about where he belonged in the world. That was a question he never managed to get answered. Two suicide attempts in his life, and a great deal of sadness. Even in the “joyful” times, he never seemed comfortable or happy. The blue eyes always seemed to betray that vulnerability and insecurity. Neglected in his childhood, he neglected himself in adulthood. He lost his teeth early, and always looked decades older than he was.
It has been almost a year since we talked and our last conversation was not happy. He had been rather deliberately hurt, one more time, by an older family member who knew exactly how to hurt him – by excluding him. She could not have known, when she cut him, that he was already pretty sick and in a wheelchair.
He had no faith, wished for no funeral, no rites, no memorial.
I don’t blame him for not having faith. I can’t think of any example of love he ever encountered that did not – ultimately – get distorted or misrepresented or prove itself to be wholly untrustworthy, not to be counted on, not to be believed.
I loved him, but I was much younger than he, and of a completely different nature. I doubt he believed it, that I loved him. He had no tools to believe it.
How tragically sad is that?
I know people who like to pretend to victimhood, who spend a great deal of time counting all the ways they have been hurt.
Well, we all get hurt. As I said in the podcast yesterday, our lives – in may ways – wreck us. The loud “poor-me’s” who revel in their victimhood and throw themselves pity parties…well, at the very least they get some satisfaction in the notice they demand of others.
John never demanded notice. Likely he never believed he was worth anyone’s noticing. When you are rejected by your parents at a young age, never quite included in “the family,” that can happen.
It has never been my habit to decide the spiritual fate of someone else; in fact I loathe nothing more than folks who presumptuously declare they know the state of someone else’s soul, because of this scripture verse or that. These people, to me, seem unloving, empty and oddly disconnected from the scripture they quote…as though their intellect has cut off from their heart. Other people mean well, but…I know tomorrow my email will contain a few missives from people who will quote scripture at me and enumerate to me all the reasons my brother is not now in the peace of Christ.
I say to hell with that. He was loved into being; he was baptized and sealed. The people who were supposed to teach him the way in which to go spun him madly, incessantly – then allowed him to get dizzy and lost. He lived a sad, tortured life the best way he knew how – quite imperfectly, but then his tools were also very insufficient and his trust was non-existent. I cannot claim to know anything, but I do not believe that a loving God would look upon this much-sinned against man and reject him once again, as he was rejected all his life.
For one thing, none of us know what happens in those infinitesimal moments between life and death, if mercy is offered one more time, and accepted.
For another, the Good Shepherd knows when a sheep has been left behind and gotten lost, has fallen helplessly into a crevice, and has died alone – abandoned to the cold and his own fear.
And so tonight – and for many nights – I will pray for John, for the repose of his soul. For his consolation and peace, in the mercy of God.
Tonight, I am believing that my brother John is finally in the presence of the all-encompassing and unconditional love in which he can finally trust, finally surrender to…or that he has glimpsed enough of it to want more, however long it takes to become fit for it.
Podcast: The Office for the Dead.
In my work at two human service agencies, I have encountered a number of people like your brother, who were abused as children in a variety of ways and who thus never had the opportunity to learn about about a loving God in the way that most of us do–from the love of a parent or parental figure. I, too, have always believed that the Good Shepherd has a special place in His heart for these poor lost sheep and that He will go to special lengths to find them and bring them back to His flock. May I join you in praying for the repose of John’s soul?
[Thank you so much, you are very kind. Bless you - ES]
Bless you, Elizabeth, you gave him the eulogy no one else could. He’ll be resting forever snuggled in Jesus’ arms.
It is up to Jesus alone to judge the state of anyone’s soul or salvation.
I remember when I was blogging with a large group that
one of my partners decided she wanted to be the head honcho
and when I replied to a particularly hateful email her
response was: “My husband was right! You are not a Christian!”
Christian in the Protestant sense is born-again. I will
never forget and am having trouble forgiving her for that
statement.
I, too, was abandoned by my mother and my father didn’t
acknowledge me. They were not married. I had to get a
copy of my birth certificate this past week and was so
struck to see my mother’s age as 17 when I was born, even
though she turned 18 three days later.
But, because God had me in the palm of His hand and watched over me, what I missed out on in childhood has more than
been given back to me in adulthood.
I credit Jesus and a missionary couple who had been
missionaries to Belgian Congo and when that field was closed
were assigned to our small church on an Indian reservation.
If not for the activities and entertainment they offered
us teenagers I don’t know where I would have wound up.
These people gave their lives in service to Jesus and are
basking in His Glory tonight.
Since I am Baptist, I do not believe we can pray for a soul
after death, but I believe sometime in John’s life he
reconciled himself with our Triune God and tonight is
sheltered in the arms of God. How I envy him!
God bless you and your family as you go through the
grieving process.
I am so sorry, A. And it’s true, none of us knows what happens in those infinitesimal moments. I pray with you that he is at peace with the Lord.
My heart goes out to you, your brother, and to those who love him.
I don’t know what’s going on but I just made a long post
that just disappeared.
Suffice it to say no one can judge a man’s soul besides
Jesus, and at some point in his life your brother probably
made a commitment to Jesus and is now sheltered in the arms
of God.
I will be praying for you and the family for comfort in
your grief.
It showed up. You can delete my second comment and this one too.
Thanks.
Beautiful. You honor your brother. Blessings and condolences to you and your family.
Oh, Anchoress; I’m so sorry. I will absolutely pray for John, your brother. You eulogized him beautifully and honestly. God will comfort him; I cannot imagine it any other way. That other relative, the one who purposely excluded him, has got some making up to do. And some ‘splaining, at some point, I imagine.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted[...]“
Did he know? Was he ever told? Did he ever take comfort in that?
I wonder if he reached for that right before he left this world… Just to think he took a hold on that Holy Promise before he crossed that threshold… That should be enough.
May your bother rest in eternal peace, Anchoress. And prayers for you, too.
I know exactly how it is, when you have older brothers and sisters you seldom relate to, because they’re a generation apart from you. I have a total of eight brothers and sisters, all of them a generation older than me. When I was born, just about all of them were old enough to have their own lives, and my older brother was old enough to live apart from us. So, if something bad happened to any of them, I’d be hurt, too. But it would also have the hint of regret because I never had the chance to relate to any of them.
Anchoress, I’m so sorry for your loss. You’ve written about John so beautifully and tenderly; I will light candles for him, and for you also, during this time. I echo your thoughts ~ none of us can know just how it was with John in those final moments, but we Do know our dear Saviour is all-loving, all-merciful.
Anchoress, I am too sorry for your loss of your brother, whom you described with lovingly clarity. I hope some vessels of God were in position to touch his life with kindness along the way, giving a “cup of cold water in His name.”
I will pray with you and for you and your brother. I have an in-law family member who has abandonment problems. A mother or father who turns their back on a child causes a hurt that is very, very hard to overcome. I cannot imagine the lifelong pain this causes. Jesus said “in my house are many mansions, (rooms) I’m am sure he has a place for your brother in his heavenly home.
Anchoress, I am very sorry that your birth brother has died. I will pray for him and for you and your family.
I will add my prayers to yours for your brother…
Eternal rest grant onto him O Lord
and may the souls of all the faithful departed
Rest in Peace. Amen.
Prayers for you, dear Elizabeth, and for your dear brother. A loss at this time of year seems to have an added burden to the grief we already are wrestling with. I have always been thankful that it is God, not us mortals, who knows our struggles in life and uses His divine mercy to sweep us into the safety of His arms.
Oh, A, I’m sorry. I’m no biblical scholar, but I remember Jesus following His story of the prodigal son with a comment that the rejoicing in heaven over the return of one lost soul is greater than the celebration of all the souls who remain “in the flock”….a loose paraphrase, but the point certainly echoes your thoughts about Jesus, the Good Shepherd. God is unimaginably kind. I will join my prayers to yours on behalf of your brother.
the Good Shepherd knows when a sheep has been left behind and gotten lost, has fallen helplessly into a crevice, and has died alone – abandoned to the cold and his own fear.
O Jesus, have mercy!
Dear Anchoress,
Your tender post brought many tears of grief to my eyes for the life your brother had to struggle through. That struggle will be rewarded. He did make it you know. He survived twice and finally went home. The fact that he endured has great merit. God loves him still.
He is now listed as John on our parish’s very public morning rosary. So, about 11:45a.m.EST, Monday he’ll net about 50 to 100 rosaries. I’m sure if he does not need them, Jesus will apply them to some other hurting soul. Perhaps a soul still in the visible realm.
And I’ll bet your understanding words will not be missed by your other brother who loves you so perfectly. Your brother Jesus.
Sending lots and lots of love and prayers.
AF xo
I’m so sorry for your loss, Anchoress. I hope your brother is finally at peace.
I think that now John has found the love he felt was lacking throughout his troubled life – and while I become furious at the thought of any creature living without love on this planet, how fortunate that even for those who have suffered so great without that blessing, in the arms of the One who has always given them perfect love.
None of us feels our lives are perfect, but the gross deprivations of your brother John far exceed those of the majority of us. For that reason alone we should pray for his soul with all the love we can send his way while being enormously grateful that we have found less pain in our own lives.
God bless and keep him.
Elizabeth, I’m very, very sorry to hear about the loss of your brother.
I lost my mother on Dec. 1, after a long bout with cancer and the lingering effects of a stroke. Her death was not unexpected, and for me it represented more of an opportunity to rejoice than to mourn. It is still difficult to absorb her loss, but I am comforted by the fact that her Earthly suffering is at an end, and she now resides in the arms of Jesus Christ. I hope that you understand the loss of your brother in much the same way.
Mom’s story was really quite fascinating. The stroke took away her short term memory, but in doing so it completely freed her from the anxiety and depression that had blighted her life for nearly two decades. She rejoiced in each day and never grew tired of telling anyone who would listen about her life, which was humorous because she was continually re-telling things that had happened 30 or 40 years earlier. I can only imagine that our ultimate freedom in Christ will be something like that.
I am not a Catholic, but one of the characteristics of the Catholic faith that I have grown to admire is the steadfastness with which devout Catholics cling to the hope of salvation. Your description of your brother’s suffering, and your hope for his salvation through the grace of God, is truly beautiful,and — as you say — refreshingly devoid of the empty and disconnected air that tends to surround those who believe that God has somehow given them special insight into the secrets of His Divine judgment.
May the Holy Spirit impart grace and peace unto you and your family during this time of loss.
Elizabeth, because of the New England ice storm, I would have missed the news if you hadn’t mentioned it today.
My condolences go to you and my hopes go to John.
A sad painful life…
From the anchoress and mystic Julian of Norwich: “…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”