Leading Proust Scholar
To my Sister,
Although I never actually disliked you, I have to admit that I never considered us friends, let alone close family. The directions our lives took led us down such utterly different paths that I began to live as if I had no family—no family except the one I constructed for myself from friends and colleagues. However, I soon realized that the family I created for myself didn’t actually care about me. What they cared about was how I was contributing to their lives. When I needed something—needed someone—to lean on without questions, I was shut out of the community. No one cared that I had spent most of my life contributing to their field of study. What shocked me most was how this ‘family’ went on as if I had never existed. No one mourned my absence, or asked where I had gone.
But you, my sister, you had been standing behind me with open arms the entire time. You swept me up in the first genuine hug I’d had in over a decade. I was so entirely convinced that we were too different to interact, that you didn’t ‘get’ me, I didn’t even consider reaching out to you. I have another confession to make: I didn’t want to come to your home. Your husband and children embodied a life I would never experience. In your typical American home, I felt isolated and embarrassed. In the beginning, I was simply waiting for the opportune moment to slip away—to let you get on with your life and me get on with mine.
The trip changed my perspective in ways I never would have imagined. What I had imagined as a happy family was really just a group of people who put up with one another—no matter what. I wasn’t expected to be witty, intellectual, or polished. I simply had to show up and I was accepted. This isn’t to say I was liked all the time, but at no time did I worry about losing you. I learned a new level of acceptance—one that didn’t hinge on my likeability or accomplishments.
Thank you for giving me my family back, even though I didn’t even realize I was asking for it. I wouldn’t choose a dead man I’ve never met over you anymore.
Your brother,
Frank