Sibling Fighting

The orthodontist's office is packed. Ryan and I just arrived for his 5pm appointment. We found the last two seats, a padded bench against the wall. It looks like it's going to be a long wait.

Ryan pulls out his math homework and I crack open a book that has been sitting on the shelf for years. Although I can tell from the introduction that the book is very well written, I can't seem to get past page one. Maybe it's because the author, a mom, has written about Disney and the Tower of Terror ride in particular. I remember this ride. Christopher went on it with Rich. He was six at the time. We had SUCH a fun time in Disney. The boys had smiles on their faces the whole time and for many days thereafter.

Yet still, whenever someone mentions Disney, I cringe inside. I shutdown and try not to hear what they are saying. I think it's because I know I can never go back with my two boys. Others might say, "But you can still take Ryan back." And yes I can. But Disney is about the kids and the kids feeding off the magic of the park and the excitement of each other. We parents are just the spectators. I sometimes wonder if children, especially siblings, have a secret language as they can see and even hear things that we adults just can't. We are just lucky that we are here for the ride.

"Stop!' a girl shrieks across the waiting room. I look up and see a teenage boy sitting next to her with a smirk on his face -- obviously her brother. I look back down and think sibling fighting is such a normal part of life. It's almost like fighting with your sibling offers kids an outlet to release the stress of the day. It's not okay to yell at your mom or dad or even a kid at school, but annoying your brother or sister can feel pretty good if you are in a bad mood or even just bored as these kids across the room seem to be. So now I sit here and marvel at my younger son, Ryan, as to where he puts all of that extra energy.

He's not an only child. He was raised as the younger of two boys. Yes, some people may think he is an only child because he is the only child living in our house right now. And his brother is not just away as I sometimes lead people to think. Not people I know, but strangers who ask the most normal, yet difficult question for someone in my situation:

"How many children do you have?"

Other parents who have lost a child may only refer to their living children as the possible follow-up questions are too painful. For me, the answer will always be "two." If we are traveling, I'll often add, "Only our younger son is traveling with us." No one ever asks beyond that.

"Stop putting your stickers on me!" the brother across the room yells out. I look up and see that the brother now has white headphones dangling from his ears. It seems that he's moved on from annoying his sister to listening to music. I guess it's her turn now. Their grandfather who is sitting across from them suggests, "You would be much better off doing your homework, you know." Beside me sitting on the bench, I look at Ryan who is almost done with his math sheet.

If Christopher were here, I wonder...would they also be fighting? Or might they be watching each other try to beat a tough level on their DS -- as they often did together. If Christopher were here has become my question of the day and sometimes my question of the hour. If Christopher were here, maybe Ryan wouldn't be so lonely at times. If Christopher were here, he and Ryan could walk to school together. If Christopher were here, Ryan could just....fill in the blank.

Ryan looked up to Christopher for everything like most little brothers do. When he was only four and in a family CCD class, a priest asked Ryan, "In whom do you trust?" His answer: "My brother."

They were only 23 months apart and very close, yet like all siblings, they did fight. So now, I wonder, how Ryan has gotten used to not having his brother to fight with. The bigger question of course is, how has Ryan gotten used to not having Christopher physically in his life. I don't think he has gotten used to it, or ever will. He does what I do, I guess, just try to stay present to the moment since we don't really have a choice.

But I do remember the bickering and the shouting. Sometimes I could be very yogic and remember what one of Christopher's nurses said when he was only three, "You have to be healthy to fight." It's true. If you are too sick from chemo, you don't have the energy to fight with your brother.

Other times, like other parents, I just wish it would stop. Obviously not this way.

"Ryan," the nurse calls out from beside the counter. Finally, it's his turn to be seen.

What I wouldn't give for some sibling fighting between Christopher and Ryan -- just one of the many things Ryan has to grow up without.