A blessing, not a burden

My neighbor’s brother died on Saturday. He was 60. Joan (I will call her) took care of her younger sibling with Down syndrome all his life after their mother passed away, as he could not take care of himself. I would see her hold his hand walking down our street to the swimming pool in the summer or to get a haircut at the local barbershop. Sometimes they sat on my porch swing and talked. Or at least she talked animatedly to him; he was unable to speak.

For 28 years as neighbors, I was impressed by Joan’s love for her brother. She was always tender, always kind and laughing with him, never resentful of the extra burden. It’s like that 1969 song by The Hollies, “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.” Toward the end I privately thought he was a bit heavy, as he became incontinent and an insomniac and she had to change his diaper like a baby’s. And by this time, Joan had contracted serious health problems of her own. When her brother passed away a few days ago, I hoped that after the initial grief she would get a long-awaited rest.

Yesterday I went to Joan’s house and we talked for a while—mostly Joan. I commended her for her years of self-sacrifice. She said that though some people could not understand the depth of her loss, there was in fact no one she had loved more in life than her brother. Perhaps I looked confused because she proceeded to explain to me that he was the only person in the world who always looked excited to see her, every time she walked into the room or into the house. Though I confess I never could distinguish a smile in the quirky contortions of his facial expressions, she assured me that he did smile whenever he saw her—and that was payment enough.

I came home from Joan’s edified and not a little rebuked. How hard-hearted I have been much of my life to withhold something as easy and inexpensive as a smile from people close to me. How foolish I have been to rush around doing this and that chore, and then spoiling it all by neglect of the little things that count. Even a dog shows nonjudgmental love to his master returning home from work, and I have been so stingy with my affections.

This sorry state of affairs can be changed at once, any time we choose—today, “while it is called Today,’” says the writer Hebrews. Here was her brother, unable to contribute anything material toward the maintenance of a household, and blessing his sister’s life with nothing more than genuine appreciation.