My family gathered around me when I got sick. My father threw away a lucrative banking career and moved to the north woods to help me. He thought living would be easier for me up there. My mother played golf to keep her sanity and listened to me rage. My brother took me on every downhill skiing, fishing, and duck hunting trip possible. My sister got married five years before she wanted to. My uncle had me to dinner countless times to discuss literature. My cousin took me sailing and included me with his friends at dinner parties. My family saved my bacon. Today, I don’t see them much. My brother and I still fish, hunt, and ski. My sister lives far away. My parents and uncle are gone. My cousin has a family of his own. The rest of my family, when we get together for rare reunions, views me the way they saw me before I got sick. I was the oldest cousin and the head of the family. To some, I was a black sheep. I go to my brother’s house only once a year for Christmas. Our family is close but there have been some fallings out. I have not talked to my sister in two years. We have a long way to go to repair the damage caused by my illness. We are getting on in years. My brother and I enjoy robust health but my sister, I have heard from my aunt, is hurting. Time and work heal everything.
Published by Christopher G. Bremicker
Special Forces medic stationed at Ft. Bragg NC from 1968 to 1970. BA English and MBA, both from University of Minnesota. Fisherman, grouse hunter, downhill skier.. Plays handball and reviews theater. Present job at Walgreens in St. Paul MN is forty-sixth job since high school. Hometown is Cable WI. View more posts