Angela C. Orlando
Words: 782
[Memoir]

My son, Daniel, is in the second grade. Each February the PTA sponsors a Family Night Dance. It's hugely popular with the kids. Daniel loves it.

Tonight was the school dance. My mother teaches a class on Friday nights so my father takes Daniel to the dance. I usually go to these kinds of things. Even if I can't hear or see what is going on, I want to be there so I can be a part of Daniel's life. But I strongly did not want to go to this dance.

I tried to get out of it. I protested that my father can't sign so he can't communicate with me and that Daniel will run off with his friends and only want me when he needs money. There was simply no reason for me to go. But my Mom kept pushing the issue and then Daniel insisted he wanted me there.

How could I explain the real reason I didn't want to go to the dance? How could I tell my parents the truth? It would hurt them too much. Because the truth was, I didn't want to go to the dance because of my brother.

Charles is five years older than me. He was a typical big brother--loving but over-protective. He drove me crazy most of the time.

Charles has the same genetic condition as me, but it affects his body in different ways. His problems were not as severe as mine. He was partially blind from Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP) but could still read print. His hearing was absolutely normal and he had only the mildest peripheral nerve problems.



Notice the tense shifts in the above two paragraphs. I still have no idea how to talk about Charles. He is my brother. He was my brother. It is so confusing.

You would think, because he was so much less disabled than me, that life would be easier for Charles. It wasn't. He had a much harder time coping with his limitations. Maybe what happened to me scared him. Maybe he thought he could go completely deaf-blind within a matter of weeks. Maybe he was afraid he'd lose the ability to walk or feeling in his hands. Or maybe he felt guilty because I was so much more disabled. I really don't know.

Charles was difficult to deal with. He was tense and high-strung. He was pushy and demanding. He wanted to help but he drove everyone crazy. His mental state was hard to deal with. I loved my brother but I couldn't handle him for very long without getting annoyed and frustrated.

Two years ago, we went to the school dance together. Of course, Daniel ran off with his friends and my father sat down somewhere. Charles could sign and he was trying to entertain me. I was already in a bad mood that day. I didn't want him pestering me. He tried three times to get me to dance but I refused. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

Six months later, Charles took an intentional overdose of prescription medicine. He died one week before his 39th birthday.

Now here I am, terrified to attend a school dance. I am consumed with guilt. If only I had been nicer to him. If only I had been more patient.
If only I had tried harder to understand him. If only I had danced with him . . .

If I had danced with him, he would have known I cared. He would have known I loved him. He would have known I needed him. And he would have known that his suicide would destroy me.

We can't go back. We can't change the past. How can I ever attend that dance again? How can I face Charles' ghost?

Here's the thing about life . . . You have two basic choices. You can face your demons or you can give up. Charles gave up in the ultimate sense. I'm not Charles and I never was.

My son wanted me at the dance. Daniel wanted his mother there, and so I had to go. I took a deep breath and tried to push the panic away. I swallowed my sadness. I walked into that school. I heard the boom of the music with my CI. I felt the vibration of it too. And I told Charles I was sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to him and I'm sorry for the pain he must have felt. But life goes on, and so I have to go on with it.

And I was right about something else. Daniel only wanted me when he needed money. Some things never change.

=====
Angela C. Orlando is studying ASL at Kent State University.