I recently went with my family to New Zealand, where they would meet my half-brother and his family for the first time. My previous visit had been 13 years earlier, when I was 22 years old and he to celebrate his 50th birthday.
To say we've had little contact is an understatement. Yet, I have never questioned the sporadic communication or his obvious absence from my life.
My first memory of him is when I was 12 years old. I remember my Mum and Dad saying how much he reminded them of our Father -- his accent, his mannerisms and his carefree attitude. But I didn't seek him out on this occasion. Instead, his three sons aged 15, 14 and 9 were far more appealing. Steven, Alun and Kevin played cricket and soccer, swam in the ocean and hung out with my younger sister and I. We had a terrific time! But it would be another 10 years before we would meet again ...
Three months after starting my first job, I began dreaming about travelling to places I had only read about. A fellow work colleague, Michael, and I started talking about all the places in the world we each would like to see. Soon we decided that we might as well go together! New Zealand came up as a good first option: they spoke the English language, mutual friends had said the scenery in the South Island was spectacular and tramping for up to 5 days at a time was exactly 'up our alley'.
It was decided I would fly to Auckland on my own after Christmas 1995 and Michael would meet me in Wellington in the new year. I was 22 years old and upon meeting my brother, Mick, he welcomed me in like one of his own grown-up kids. It was a natural instinct for both of us; the difference in age of 28 years as well as our life experiences made it difficult for us to connect as brother and sister. I had no questions for him regarding my Father either as I had learned over the years that asking those sorts of questions made other people feel uncomfortable or react unpredictably. Once again, it was Mick's sons, and now their girlfriends, who made great companions. We played cricket, soccer and swam in the ocean together. My 5 day visit had been as wonderful as the last, but I hadn't connected with my brother.
In 2003, when I was home with my new born twin daughters I suddenly felt the presence of my Father in their nursery room. It made me cry. For the first time in my life he became a real person to me. And it suddenly became important for me to find out who he was, where he had come from, what he had done and what he was like -- no matter what. Interestingly, my natural instinct was not to talk to my brother about it. In fact, I can honestly say that it never crossed my mind.
To say that I contacted my brother last year in pursuit of information about our Father sounds callous. But, we had no emotional connection and I had exhausted all other avenues. I am not good at using people and would not live with myself easily if I made someone feel that way. So, I began to email my brother casually -- in a get-to-know-you kind of way. He was actually very receptive, although I found that computers and emotions were not his speciality. In fact, now it seems likely that his wife, Doreen, would almost have needed to tie him to a chair in order for him to write to me! I didn't realise how privileged I was to received those few emails. In addition, he didn't really have a lot of information for me, so I stopped asking questions and enjoyed our conversations instead.
In February this year, I received an advertisement from Qantas with a "kids fly free" deal. Michael, now my husband, suggested we take the opportunity to go to England to pursue my ancestry research, but I didn't feel I was ready. However, the idea of visiting snow as well as my brother in New Zealand made it an obvious choice. Luckily enough, my brother has two grand-daughters near the same age as my own daughters, so every one's needs could be met!
As you well know, it takes time to build a relationship with someone. Yet I only had 10 days! On the first day, Mick and Doreen drove us to some places that allowed us to see the magnificent views of Auckland harbour and enjoy the unseasonal sunshine. On the way to our first stop Mick started talking about this and that, but he mentioned "me Dad used to say ..." so many times that I couldn't help but become emotional. Mick had given me something nobody ever had -- he had simply talked about my Father. Tears came quickly to my eyes. And when we were alone for a few minutes I thanked him.
Mick and I did not have many opportunities to talk about the Roberts family, but one night we looked through an old photograph album. The faces of Uncles, Aunties, Cousins I never knew about as well as Mick's early married life greeted me ... and I knew this was special. Questions came flying out of my mouth, and I tried to commit the answers to memory as best I could. As I neared the end, I saw a photograph of a young man in a park. There were other photos of Mick playing soccer, lying on a beach and with his young family, so it didn't stand out. Just as I was turning the page, Mick pointed to the photo and said "that's the only picture I have of our Dad". I was shocked. I had presumed it be my brother, casually standing there with his hands in the pockets of his smart suit. Wow! "How old is he there", I asked. 36. Again I was shocked, I had just turned 36. It is a moment I will never forget!
It has been 2 months since we returned from our holiday to New Zealand, and at least once a week I receive a text from my brother. Who could ask for more? Well, amazingly we have an emotional attachment to eachother; the word "Brother" comes naturally to me now. Finally we have found a connection ...
