Home again

I never realised I would feel such a sudden sense of sadness at the moment of departure, but I did. Jacob looked so innocent (though s times he's far from it...). Moments earlier, he sat in the back of the car with me as brother drove me to the airport. He pretended to sleep, pretended to snore loudly, and I would then have a peek at me and burst out in laughter. Adorable, simply the cutest, and I felt sorry to leave him (even though at times he can be very difficult and whiny...). 

In many ways, he is like my brother, or at least I can see beginnings of being like my brother.... Bossy, demanding, wanting to be in control and tell everyone what to do. My sisterinlaw and I talked about this and joked how she has to pander to two people who are so alike...

It's been only two weeks having them around, and admittedly there were times  that were unbearable (like the condescending way my brother talks down to me and treats me, and the way that he tuts and shakes his head when I have a difference of opinion...) But at goodbye, I gave him a hug, and patted his arms  as I told him to take good care to take care of his health and body. Despite conflicts and difficulties between us, we are still siblings, and the loss of our parents and the birth of my nephew has certainly brought us closer together.

At one instance,when he opened his wallet to pick out his credit card. I saw inside a pocket, he had placed a picture of mum. He misses mum, I know he does, but I never realised how much (still?), and have just assumed my grief and pain is so personal and are not shared. Like dad before him, brother is not one to express his feelings or emotions. Perhaps they think that is being week, perhaps they believe some things are best unsaid and they'd prefer to suffer in silence... But seeing that picture of mum made me realise more brings us (my brother and me ) together than divides us, even more than the distance between us and the turbulent history behind us. 

I stepped into my apartment and in the laundry basket were the sheets and duvet covers that they used but have not been washed. In the washroom were their towels. In the spare  bedroom was the balloon I laid on the bed to welcome them to Canada, and the bag of Reeses pieces I bought as a welcome gift. 

My cat miauwed and welcomed me home as she lay lazily on the foldable sofa bed my brother slept on.

Home again. Home alone again...