I am not my brother's keeper.

I have a brother - D. He is my big brother, by 2 1/2 years. We got along well as children - if my memory is correct - of course we bickered over the usual things (and I'm sure I did more than my fair share of initiating the bickering as that was my temperment back then.) But he was my big brother - I looked up to him - I wanted to be just like him, and do whatever it was he was doing.

Along about the time D hit puberty - he changed - and his life sort of became one of those 'afterschool special stories'. You know the kind, teenage boy thinks he's had enough of his horrible life, runs away with his girlfriend, gets said girlfriend pregnant (both at the age of 15), has child with girlfriend, drops out of school, makes his way through life.

Through all of the 'challenges' I tried to be close to him. I remember my brother being a kind and gentle soul as a kid. I know that kind and gentle person is in there .... somewhere ....

Fast forward a decade or two - I live my life as the 'good' child - graduate high school, college, go on to live in Europe for a while, move to S. Carolina, get married, get masters degree, have first child (after struggling with infertility) - and my brother is absent for most all of it. Sure, we could chalk it up to the distance - but that's just geography - and in today's technology-savvy world - a poor excuse.

I try to reach out to D - to include him in my life - but he's distant - wrapped up in his own world. I have to believe that it's not intentional - his distance - but it's hard when the big brother I grew up with seems to have more time for his business or his girlfriend, or his girlfriend's family than his own.

So then our dad gets sick with cancer - really sick. From the time of intial diagnosis of stage four colon cancer/optic melanoma to the time of his death was a mere nine months. I used that time to try to be closer to our dad. I called him - and he called me quite often - following doctor visits and treatments. I listened to him cry - I heard his fears - I shared his sorrow.

D checked out. I think it was his self-preservation method - he didn't know how to deal with our dad dying. No one ever talked about the possibilty that dad may die - not even dad. The big C was always discussed as something he'd beat, or something he was fighting hard against, with everything he had. We never entertained the notion that he might not make it. I don't begrudge my brother's behavior, I mean, we all deal with things in different ways, right? How I may choose to handle serious illness (by hearing all the facts, and participating fully) may not be how another handles it.

I get that, I really do. What I don't get is the complete abandonment. Up until my dad's death, he always asked me 'have you heard from your brother?' I tried in vain to 'cover' for D - came up with excuses - and hoped that our dad didn't know - but it was a terrible position to be in. I hated lying to dad - I hated D not calling him - I hated knowing the discrepancy between the two.

After dad died, D rushed into the scene like the prodigal son. He rushed to my dad's wife's side - full of compassion, trying to help with funeral arrangements, calling people - whatever. I was pushed aside. I was even told, that after my husband and 10 month old A had paid out the a$$ for airline tickets to travel from S. Carolina to be with dad as he died, we couldn't stay at dad's house - because having a baby in the house was too much for my dad's wife. Yeah - you read that right - so we holed up in a crappy hotel near to the hospital in Tacoma, while D stayed with dad's wife in their home.

My husband D told me that I needed to be the better person - to just let my brother try to make up for lost time in whatever way he needed to. And I did. I sat silently by as he portrayed himself to be this great son - while I was discounted as the daughter who moved far away and wasn't a part of my dad's life at all. It hurt. It hurt like hell. It was the farthest thing from the truth. But I kept my mouth shut. I knew then, and I know now what the truth was. It shouldn't matter what other people (like my dad's friends) thought. But that screaming little sister deep inside wanted desperately to show her sassy self - and loudly voice the truth.

I think I still have teeth marks on my tongue from that August in 2005.

So you might think that following the tragedy that was my father's death would be a wake-up call of sorts for my big brother - that he might want/try/need to be closer to his family, or me specifically as his little sister. I erroneously thought that we would walk the path of grief together, cling to one another as we moved forward in our lives without our father.

Nope. More deafening silence. Not just for me - but for our mom and step dad as well (all the while my brother keeps in close contact with my dad's widow.) Go figure.

So then tragedy strikes again for us two adult children, when my mom's brain hemorrhages. Again, we go through the same routine. D checks out. He can't handle it. I know it's horrific to see our mom like she is - but she's still our mom. She's still the woman who wanted us, who prayed for us, who carried us in her womb, who brought us to life. She is still the woman who loved us desperately. She's still there - just not the same as she was before April 10, 2007. She still loves us - I'm sure of it - and still needs us.

And, again, I'm asked from family and friends across the continent who call to check in on us, to see how mom is doing "have you heard from your brother?"

No. And I'm not my brother's keeper.