Family Change

After my students and I discuss "What Makes a Family?", I then have them brainstorm on the question "How Can a Family Change?"  They usually respond very quickly to this one.  The first response is almost always divorce.  Almost half of the students have experienced divorce in their own home, so this does not surprise me.  I was pleased that this trimester's 8th grade class had some deep thinkers and even came up with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).  

The one I always pause on and give my thoughts is when a group replies with death.  At this point I take a moment to share with them that my own brother died when he was 13 and I was 8.  There is usually a moment of reflection and then a hand goes up.  "Mrs. Heinisch, how did he die?"  I am used to this question and always answer the same - "He had a genetic disorder that caused his aorta to rupture.  Although we knew he had this disorder, his death was unexpected."  This answer seems to always satisfy their curiosity and rarely is anything more asked.  Before we move on I tell them that he was my only sibling, so death really did change my family forever.

Since he was five years older than me, my brother, Bunk, was my hero.  I wanted to be just like him and wanted to be with him always.  Of course, this always annoyed him greatly.  When he died our house just felt sad.  Holidays were not the same.  My parents were devastated and decided that we needed to move.  In the end we all made it through, but it was a rough road.  My Mom didn't like to talk about Bunk.  It made her too sad.  I had all new friends in our new town, so there was no one to talk to him about.  

During those dark days we stopped going to church (we have all since returned.)  My Mom became overprotective of me.  I hated that at times, but I always understood why.  I carried a lot of guilt inside of me (guilt that I survived, guilt that I pestered him, etc.)  When I hit twenty years old, I started having panic attacks about my own mortality.  Through some amazing words that a pastor said to me I finally started to accept this change in our family and begin the healing process. 

Time does not heal all wounds.  I learned that.  Thirty-five years have gone by since my brother died, but it can still bring a tear to my eye.  What I have noticed in my family is that the birth of my own children also drastically changed my parents lives (and mine of course).  It gave my Mom and Dad the right to be happy again, to love unconditionally, to share memories and the pain did lessen.  One of my sons has many of Bunk's characteristics.  One day out on the soccer field he gave me a look that I had seen a million times before when I was a little girl.  Although I am sure that the look said, "Go Away!", it made me smile, as I was positive that Bunk was letting me know he was still a part of our family.