When irrepressible twins Harry and Lorie were born, everyone was thrilled. Twins didn't happen on either side of the equation. We attributed the tiny miracles to the "advancing" age of their mother -- 35 at the time.
Now the twins are approaching their nineteenth birthday. They both excelled in school; Harry took after his father and grandfather, being more mechanical in nature. Lorie was the artistic one. Her singing voice was a beautiful, lilting soprano; she starred in every high school production. They are both now in college, with Harry studying electrical engineering and Lorie pursuing a theater major with a Spanish minor.
Their parents couldn't be more proud of either one of them.
Harry and Lorie don't have siblings -- but they have slightly older cousins, even though it is their oldest aunt who has the youngest children. They always had a great time when their aunts and uncles and cousins gathered for holidays. Their cousin Emily shepherded her younger brother and the twins as they built snowmen and anxiously awaited the time when they could open the white elephant gifts that were somehow better than real gifts.
Harry (short for Harold) was named for his father and grandfather; Lorie (short for Lorene) for her paternal grandmother. The twins mother was their father's second wife. They found one another as they were both recovering from their respective divorces. They helped one another find a reason to live instead of drowning their sorrows. They built a beautiful life together. They rode motorcycles cross country. He and she devoted time to raising money to find a cure for cancer, as this was what had claimed his dad and her mom. After almost ten years of marriage the twins were born. They took to parenting with relish. He coached little league and she taught them piano. They took vacations to Disney World and all of the National Parks they could reach because they loved to camp together.
This is the story of the sister-in-law who never arrived. It's the story of a brother who thrived instead of merely survived, only to pass on much too early. It is the story of two children (perhaps there might have been 3 or 4 -- who knows) who won't help the world become a better place because they were never born. The story may have had other unknown ripple effects -- another brother who might never have suffered from a severe brain injury because a motorcycle that was not lent to him. A little girl that might never have been born because that second brother did not divorce when he did.
I do not know why I am compelled to write this story, or why it has continued to haunt me. While my brother Mike was alive I said many times that he would have been a wonderful parent. I truly believe that. I have often wondered about the various crossroads in my own life, and where the other path might have led, and how the world might be different because I took a different route. Some say that such speculation is foolish. Perhaps it is.
But something within me wants to contemplate the "what ifs" in life. Perhaps contemplating them helps to keep me more aware of my daily choices, not to cripple me with indecision, but to urge me to care.
I love all of my siblings, and nieces and nephews that do exist in the here and now. I miss all those who have gone on to a different plane of existence.
And I grieve for those who might have been.
Now the twins are approaching their nineteenth birthday. They both excelled in school; Harry took after his father and grandfather, being more mechanical in nature. Lorie was the artistic one. Her singing voice was a beautiful, lilting soprano; she starred in every high school production. They are both now in college, with Harry studying electrical engineering and Lorie pursuing a theater major with a Spanish minor.
Their parents couldn't be more proud of either one of them.
Harry and Lorie don't have siblings -- but they have slightly older cousins, even though it is their oldest aunt who has the youngest children. They always had a great time when their aunts and uncles and cousins gathered for holidays. Their cousin Emily shepherded her younger brother and the twins as they built snowmen and anxiously awaited the time when they could open the white elephant gifts that were somehow better than real gifts.
Harry (short for Harold) was named for his father and grandfather; Lorie (short for Lorene) for her paternal grandmother. The twins mother was their father's second wife. They found one another as they were both recovering from their respective divorces. They helped one another find a reason to live instead of drowning their sorrows. They built a beautiful life together. They rode motorcycles cross country. He and she devoted time to raising money to find a cure for cancer, as this was what had claimed his dad and her mom. After almost ten years of marriage the twins were born. They took to parenting with relish. He coached little league and she taught them piano. They took vacations to Disney World and all of the National Parks they could reach because they loved to camp together.
This is the story of the sister-in-law who never arrived. It's the story of a brother who thrived instead of merely survived, only to pass on much too early. It is the story of two children (perhaps there might have been 3 or 4 -- who knows) who won't help the world become a better place because they were never born. The story may have had other unknown ripple effects -- another brother who might never have suffered from a severe brain injury because a motorcycle that was not lent to him. A little girl that might never have been born because that second brother did not divorce when he did.
I do not know why I am compelled to write this story, or why it has continued to haunt me. While my brother Mike was alive I said many times that he would have been a wonderful parent. I truly believe that. I have often wondered about the various crossroads in my own life, and where the other path might have led, and how the world might be different because I took a different route. Some say that such speculation is foolish. Perhaps it is.
But something within me wants to contemplate the "what ifs" in life. Perhaps contemplating them helps to keep me more aware of my daily choices, not to cripple me with indecision, but to urge me to care.
I love all of my siblings, and nieces and nephews that do exist in the here and now. I miss all those who have gone on to a different plane of existence.
And I grieve for those who might have been.
