With no hint of the horror

Maybe there is a slight wisp of the bleakness that will follow my brother's birth in the look in his eyes. Unlike the birth of my sister and me, my mother was not so engaged in mothering and hired a nurse; my sister and I at 15 were delighted by our little brother and took up mothering. Within my brother's first year, my mother's mother died and my mother developed pericarditis. Under doctor's orders she could not leave her bed for one year. I recall a year of TV dinners and a sister growing more strange. By age 17, my sister was manic at times and excessively preoccupied with her grades and her boy friend. I must have sensed the craziness building in the house and withdrew. My brother was 2 and 1/2 when my sister shot herself; everything changed. I had the luck to go away to college in another year; but my brother grew up in a bleak house of fear and tragedy, with humor that had to be black! It is amazing and wonderful to me that my brother has survived and grown into an endearing man with a dear family and a successful business. The resilience of the human can be amazing or tragic - and just humdrum! more later...