Number-one bestselling author
When we were
younger, we spoke
our own language.
It would be
undecipherable to the
casual listener, but
it was our
own tongue, one
that only we
could understand. As
we grew older,
teachers would keep
us apart in
different classrooms, afraid
that we would
cheat on tests
by delving into
the other ones
mind to see
what they saw.
This was a
falsehood, but the
one thing that
has held true
to this day
is that we
feel each others
pain. I could
be miles away
from him and
have no way
of knowing what
he was doing,
but yet would
know with absolute
certainty that he
was in trouble.
This was the
case this week
when my left
eye started hurting
and parts of
me simply throbbed
in agony, yet
looked completely fine.
My head ached
and walking was
more difficult than
usual but I
could find no
cause. When my
mother called, she
told me that:
“Your brother has new symptoms. His eye is swollen and he’s having further complications. It may be new developments in his illness…”
As she talked,
I felt this
immediate sense of
relief, followed by
a hollowing out
of grief. Relief
because the symptoms
were not my
own, grief over
him, even though
he did not
want it. An
ocean of time
separated him and
I, twenty years
of silence. Yet,
even though I
no longer knew
who he was
and the life
he led, he
was still my
brother. Even though
the silence was
thick like the
mist over water,
an impenetrable fog,
I still loved
him. That night,
I lit a
candle and said
a short prayer:
“Instead of feeling my pain, feel my love for you. Instead of feeling ill, I hope you feel this.”
I hugged myself
tightly, hoping that
the hug and
the light it
held would be
strong enough to
make it through
the fog and
over the ocean
of time.
Wonderful poem. Lost my twin brother to illness a few years ago, and these said words for me that I could never find myself. Thank you!