I am thinking of brothers and sisters today. Not my own—of course we angels are all siblings under our Father-King. Our relationships with one another, however, are very different from the relationships between siblings I have seen on Earth. Sometimes I see some of heaven in their interactions—for example, the nurturing love Pamela has for her young brothers, or the way in which Lamarr thinks of and misses his younger siblings. But all too often people who share the same heritage and history allow their lives to draw them away from one another, and sometimes darker shadows intervene. This last was the case which occupied me today.
I checked in on Myrtle to find her alone and brooding, which is rare for her. Very often during her evenings she either is out with her friends or she will have Jaquinn for company. Tonight, however, she was sitting in her apartment, a beer warming by her elbow, and though the television was on, her thoughts were not on the exchanges on the screen. She was thinking instead about her brother, which surprised me, because up until today, I did not know that she had a brother.
The reason for my ignorance soon became clear, as well as the reason for Myrtle’s morose mood. She and her brother have not spoken for several years, ever since their parents’ divorce. The separation was—well, the word that Myrtle uses in her thoughts is “ugly”, but while that is accurate, it is too small a word for the scars it left on the spirits on all involved. In Myrtle’s thoughts I could hear the screaming, slamming doors, glass shattering, someone crying. It seems to me that not even the best of Cupids could have mended the damage between Myrtle’s mother and father. Sometimes separation is the best recourse. It is just a shame that the damage extended further than just the two adults. Myrtle took her father’s side in the disagreement, while Darron continued to support their mother.
For many years, it seems, Myrtle has held up her anger as a wall between herself and her mother. By default, this wall shuts out her brother, as well. But tonight marks a softening in her opinion. This is because today is Darron’s birthday.
Of course, as soon as I understood the situation, I urged Myrtle to reach out to him. Just the fact that she was considering the thought means that she misses her brother, and I see no reason she should not have him in her life.
I was expecting resistance—it is simply the kind of spirit she is—and I received it. No sooner had I spoken the words than she hunched deeper into her chair, scowling. Her thoughts turned mulish—Darron didn’t deserve her concern if he could side with that woman.
“She is your mother,” I protested.
This brought about sharper memories of the interactions between Myrtle’s mother and father. The screaming was her voice, the slamming doors from her hand, the shattered glass a wine bottle she had thrown, the crying a manipulation in front of neighbors. Myrtle compared this in her mind to her gentle, loving father, and her scowl grew darker.
I know very well, though, how easily humans can twist even their own memories. There is truth and there is lie in their every thought, whether they intend it so or not. It is how they survive in this lying world.
It was clear to me, however, that I needed to change my direction. I shifted her thoughts instead back to her brother, whom she remembers as a gangly boy, just seventeen, awkward and shy. He was Myrtle’s shadow, her steadfast supporter, her friend and admirer. In turn, she was his teacher, his protector, his inspiration. They had been inseparable. I drew happy memories of him, sharpening the edge of regret that brought him first to her mind.
Myrtle curled tighter, trying to protect herself. She thought of the last time she had seen her brother, the argument that they had had. This one had no raised voices, only quiet words and a shock as keen as pain. The one thing that the two parents had been able to agree to was that Darron, still a minor[1] at the time, would have a choice between staying with his mother or his father. Darron had stated, quite firmly, that he would be staying with his mother, stunning Myrtle, and all her attempts to persuade him otherwise had been useless. It was not the first time he had disagreed with her, but it was the first time they had been unable to reconcile the disagreement, and that felt like betrayal to Myrtle.
“Not betrayal,” I murmured. Though Myrtle could not see it—or chose not to see—I could tell that Darron’s actions were not out of malice toward her. Or anyone, I believe, but I will have to find him to be sure.
“You still love him,” I told Myrtle, “even through the anger. And I am certain that he still loves you. No matter your differences, the history and the laughter you have shared will live on.”
Myrtle glanced at her phone.
I pressed my advantage. “You do not have to speak about the dark things. Just open the door; the rest will come in time.”
She hesitated one more moment, then in sudden resolve picked up her phone and typed in a brief text.
Hey bro happy birthday
Then she switched her phone off and went to bed.
It is not much, I admit. Humans can be so stubborn! But it is something. I will continue to work with the two of them in the coming days. Meanwhile, if any of you know where I might be able to find Darron, please do let me know. This problem must be approached from both sides.
It does seem that I am always making more work for myself, doesn’t it? But my work is a joy, so it is not much of a surprise. In any case, wish me luck, and I will keep you informed.
[1] This is the term used to describe one who has not reached full legal maturity. Though every human becomes an adult at a different time, the world at large recognizes age eighteen as the vital time. Until that age, humans remain beholden to their parents or guardians.