My Little Brother, Jim
Never, never, never give up. ~Sir Winston Churchhill
It was 1993 when I received a phone call from my father telling me that my youngest half- brother, Jim, was flying in from Germany to see him. Although not my father’s biological child, Jim was anxious to visit the United States and meet my father, whose last name he carried. After my conversation with my father, I tried to reach back into the memories of my childhood and there I found only a vague recollection of my baby brother, Jim.
I was placed in a Catholic Orphanage for infants and very small children called Marienheim at about one year of age. Later, my younger brothers, Jean and Jim, were placed in this same orphanage as well. Sadly, I only have one black and white photograph, which was taken in this orphanage where all three of us are together. After my conversation with my father, I looked at that photo trying to imagine what Jim might look like so many years later. He had been a beautiful child with very curly dark brown hair and big expressive brown eyes. He had a bright and gentle smile on his face as though the world belonged solely to him.
When I was about four years old, Jean and I were transferred to a Lutheran orphanage in Augsburg, Germany. Jean was only one year younger than I was. You may read, “An Easter Package” if you wish, which is the story of how Jean later also was adopted. Shortly after our transfer, Jim, who was three years younger than myself and therefore had to stay behind in the infant orphanage, was formerly adopted by an older couple. After Jim was gone, I had never heard another thing about him until my father called to tell me of his up-coming visit. My own desire to piece my history together lead me to buy a ticket to see my father and Jim in Colorado.
I had arrived in Colorado the day before Jim was to fly in from Germany, which gave my father, his wife, and I some time to visit together. As we went to the airport the following day, I was nervous and excited all at the same time to be able to reunite with my little brother after so many years had gone by. None of us knew what to expect.
I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on this young man. It was sad. He walked through the airport gates looking as if he had not had a bath in over a month. As I walked up to my little brother to embrace him, he smiled that same big and gentle smile, but his unkempt appearance, obvious lack of proper hygiene, and his discolored teeth only confirmed my worst suspicion. He was homeless. Jim was able to speak some English, but mostly, he and I spoke in German.
Jim had planned to stay in the States with my father for about 8 weeks. My plans were to stay for one week, which was all I could take off from my work schedule. It proved to be an intense week as I listened to Jim’s stories and how he had processed the events that had taken place in his life.
It was not my place, nor my purpose, to determine how much of his story was actual events that had taken place and how much was a product of a good imagination. What I did know was that this young man, my little brother, was a broken human being. He had given up on life and appeared to be lost, dying on the inside with its vicissitudes already showing on the outside. I made up my mind to be there for him and to really listen without judgment or fear.
Jim told me that the people who had adopted him were an older couple who owned a farm and just wanted to adopt a boy to help with the work they needed done. Abuse was a regular event and he often had to sleep out in the barn with the animals. It was evident by looking at his teeth that he had not received proper dental care. It was also obvious by looking at his skin that his diet was poor. Jim showed me official documents, which I verified, that he divorced his adoptive parents through court procedures and took back his former last name, which was the name of my father. Jim knew, however, that all of our mother’s children had different fathers.
Before his trip to this country, Jim had also gone to visit our mother, who was still alive and living in Nürnberg, Germany. His experience with her was a negative one as he learned that she was an alcoholic and had no maternal bond with him as her child. Although he knew that our mother had given him up for adoption as an infant, her rejection of him during the visit was another extremely painful experience for this lonely young man. As I listened to him, I could only weep inside as I also felt his aloneness and his feelings of betrayal and abandonment. Oddly enough, however, I did not see the anger that one would normally expect from one who had experienced a life like Jim was describing up to that point. Jim had a wonderfully funny sense of humor and he made me laugh more than once while spending time with him. He also had a gentleness of spirit about him and a kindness that I found intriguing. All I could ask myself was, “What could he have accomplished if only he had just been given love and a fair chance at life?”
Jim wanted me to tell him about my life. I hesitated, wondering if I should share with him my own difficult times I had to face. I did not want to overwhelm him, yet I found that it was important for him to hear and see for himself what “taking responsibility” for your own life, could bring. I told him everything - well, almost everything. I told him how I stayed in the orphanage until I was 14 years old and how I had so looked forward to a family after I found out that my father found me and wanted to bring me to America. I told him of the abuse that was waiting for me there in my father’s home and how the orphanage never checked up on me and simply left me there. I told him about the feelings of aloneness, abandonment and betrayal that I had felt. I told him how difficult it is, even as an adult at times, to simply relate to others who have grown up with loving mothers and fathers, and who had never had their siblings taken away from them. I shared with him about the crying periods I had for seven straight years, three to four times a week, because of my overwhelming feeling of aloneness. Jim listened carefully and intently.
I shared with Jim about my very personal experience of when I made a spiritual commitment and was baptized. This experience changed my life and infused me with an energy and love that I had never felt before. I shared with him that even in my aloneness, I always knew that God was there for me.
I also told my brother that not only was what happened to him not right, it was unfair and it was incredibly hurtful. I explained to him, however, if he continues to hang on to what others did to him, he will debilitate himself even further. I encouraged him to find someone that he could talk with, to find gainful employment, and to make some sort of a useful life for himself. Jim assured me that he would do just that as we both cried and embraced each other. I felt so helpless and so wished that I had the power to help and to heal his deepest wounds.
After Jim flew back to Germany, I received a call from him a few months later telling me that he was dying of cancer and that he wanted to be buried here close to me. I asked him to fax me medical records, and a letter from his physician, so that my husband and I could look over them. At that time, my husband was still in college, so we were not in a position to take care of an adult. It was important for us to understand what we were dealing with. I told him that after I received all his medical information, I would get back with him. This was the last conversation I ever had with Jim. To this day, I have no idea where he is or if he is even still alive. The last contact information I had on him is no longer valid.
As I continue to search for spiritual understanding and meaning in life, I think about how many are out in the world like my brother, Jim. People who have given up all hope and all sense of connectedness with themselves, with others, and with God. I think about people with whom we come in contact each and every day, who walk around with silent pain because they feel that no one could or would possibly understand them. Will there come a time in our lives when we could have enough love in our hearts to transform those kinds of thoughts in others, those kinds of hopeless thoughts? Those are questions that I ask myself often.
