I learned that my brother had passed away by text message at
2 AM. I was expecting it so checked my
iPhone when I woke up 51 minutes later. That
may seem an odd way to learn about the death of someone so close. However, the vigil had been long and he was
3000 miles away. I was among the 12 or
20 situated remotely who learned about it en masse.
A friend – a first-born child like me – once described the
source of sibling rivalry this way:
“When you’re born, you get all your parents’ attention. They constantly praise you, show their love
and tell you how unique and special you are.
Then, one day, another kid comes along and your parents treat him the
same way…”
What’s up with that?
Though sibling rivalry begins as a battle for the attention
for one’s parents, it’s different from other battles in that its protagonists
share a foxhole. So, my brother, Steven,
and I shared experiences with one another that we shared with no one else. Without knowing it or intending it, we formed
a “Bond of Brothers” (pun intended).
We were cowboys together.
I am the scowling presence on the left. My brother, Steven, always had a better
outlook on life than I. He could always
smell the roses…..
I remember when this picture was taken perhaps because in
the aforementioned battle for attention, Steven won this skirmish.
We had our first dog together.
That’s Steven with his arms around the neck of our Collie,
Duchess.
A female character in a TV show I was watching once said, “There
is something wrong with a man who can’t love a dog”. It can also be said that there is something
right with a man who can. And, Steven
loved many of them during his life.
We were class presidents together. I’m not sure how this happened or why. But, it did.
The kids at school joked that we were the Kennedy’s of Cold Spring
Harbor.
Along the way, Steven decided to abandon the field of
battle. He became more true to
himself. He created some distance from
his family. He changed his name (or his
presentation of it). Steven became
Stephen and his middle name, Paul, became Paolo. It was minor act of rebellion.
We were a family of engineers. My father was a draftsman in one of his many
jobs after the war. In his construction
business, he was called upon to interpret many a blueprint. My uncle was an aerospace engineer who worked
on the project that put the first man on the moon. I got my engineering degree at the Naval
Academy. My brother, Chris, got his at
MIT.
Steven?
Steven got a degree in music. He was still smelling the roses.
He worked as a musician when he could in Manhattan for many
years until he followed a young beauty to New Mexico. They married outdoors on a wonderful summer
day. We all sat in a circle and spoke,
in turn, about how we felt that day.
The matchbooks at each table setting said,
Steve & Linda
Burnin’ Love
A hippie wedding with a touch of Elvis. Perfect!
Along the way, he accumulated a wonderful extension of his
family. They were centered on their own
spiritual well-being and each other’s.
They formed a support network that accompanied him on his life’s journey. Near the end, they brought comfort food,
fresh fruit and wine to share. They held
hands, told stories and spread the love.
And, they embraced those of us who parachuted in from our more
traditional world on the east coast.
Steven had a debilitating disease for the last dozen years
or so of his life. At times, he was in
excruciating pain. Yet, he never
complained and greeted everyone with only love in his heart and a smile on his
face.
We almost lost him on Christmas Day but he fought back. Most remarkable was how he spent his time during
his last days. He Skyped with all of his
friends and family one-by-one – New York, New Mexico, Virginia, Florida, California
– so he could tell each how much he appreciated knowing them and what they
brought to his life.
It was remarkable how many lives he touched and how many
were grateful to have known him.
If you believe in birth-order theory, you know that the
second child represents the interests of the mother. Like my mother in her last days, Steven had a
smile for everyone and greeted everyone with love – until he could no longer do
so.
At its core, leadership is about the example you set for
those around you.
The example set by my brother can be summarized in one word…
… Grace.
Stephen Paolo Calia died on April 16, 2014. He was 62.
No comments:
Post a Comment