A life of Compassion

I have not written here in almost two years. Those who know me well understand why. In April, 2015, my brother became ill. We didn’t know it at the time, but he only had four months left to live. Those four months were difficult to say the least. My brother Jeff and I were very close. We were born ten months apart in the same year, 1960. We went through school together, got our first apartment together, and shared a love for the theatre.

Over the years, my travels around the state and beyond meant we did not see each other as much as before. Nonetheless, we remained close. In these last ten years, having settled back down in the Central Ohio area, we spent more time together. When I sold my house in 2012, I moved in with Jeff in the country home he had retired to. We spent a lot of time antiquing and tending the family garden. We were planning on getting a booth in an antique mall so we could continue antique shopping. We also shared a love of history and in his last few years, had the opportunity to do some reenacting together.

All of that changed when he was diagnosed with cancer and congestive heart failure. From the beginning, the prognosis was not good. Care became focused on comfort rather the recovery. Through it all, Jeff exhibited the same appreciation for family and friends he had lived by his entire life. Never one to worry about material possessions, Jeff focused on people.

Now, a year and a half after his passing, I am more appreciative of my brother’s outlook on life. He truly lived a life of compassion, not comparison. Not an easy thing to do today. We are constantly bombarded with messages about what we need to buy, what should be important to us, and what being successful looks like. It got me to thinking about the condition of our world today and how most, if not all of our problems are a result of living lives of comparison.

We don’t evaluate our life situation on what we need, but rather on how what we have compares to what others have. We are even told by our elected officials that we have a right to the live “American Dream.” But, no matter how hard we all try to live that dream, no one seems to be very happy. It is as if the very pursuit of it defines us. Which part of the statistic are we in? The section that owns a home or not? The part that has a college degree? The upper rung on the corporate ladders? The slice that owns two cars, has a big retirement account, a perfect lawn, the latest technology, the busiest schedule? None of that mattered to Jeff.

So, while his life was an all-to-short 55 years, he achieved what so many fail to.
An understanding that it is the relationships we build that define our legacy.