Healing In Two Different Dimensions

My brother and I are nothing alike. While it’s clear from our facial structure that we’re siblings, our lives have taken completely different trajectories.

My brother wanted a wife and children. He married at 30, had a boy and a girl, and has been married for over 40 years.

I knew when I was thirteen that children were not part of my life path, and went through two bad marriages before creating a good one in my late 40s.

My brother went to the same college as our father, and then on to the same medical school as well, methodically knocking down every obstacle to graduation.

I didn’t even finish my bachelor’s degree, wandering in the world trying to see where I fit and what I was here to do — with some of the roads being very dark indeed until I found where I belonged.

Different lives, different quests. The world might say one of us was successful, and one wasn’t. Yet here we are, both senior citizens, both of us fulfilled and having contributed well to the world, based on what we gained from our father’s love and guidance.

That’s because for both of us, Dad was not only a parent, but our best friend.

And my brother and I are like a Rohrschach blot of our father, split right down the middle.

My brother is Dad’s left-brain, logical side.

Like Dad, he is a brilliant and compassionate physician.

He has saved countless lives over the decades, working with young patients battling asthma and cystic fibrosis.

He is warm and kind towards his patients and their families.

He is encouraging to the physicians of younger generations, lecturing both with incisive insight and great good humor.

He has the talent for that orderly type of investigation that brings breakthroughs, cures, and a better quality of life.

I’m my father’s right-brain, intuitive side.

Like Dad, I am able to listen to a client’s complaints and understand what is hurting emotionally, as well as physically, taking the time to help with their fears and confusion.

Like Dad, I am a wordsmith, crafting phrases and sentences and paragraphs that fly from the page into the reader’s imagination.

Like Dad, I am endlessly curious about the unseen world, and unafraid of asking the next question.

He was (and I am) a terrible, wonderful, constant punster.

And both of us knew that there was Something that we go on to once we leave the body — though he had no idea what it might be, and I’ve made studying that my life’s work.

Dad’s purpose and passion were healing pain where he found it, grief where he could, and sending a patient back out into the world a little better than they had been before their appointment.

My brother and I are the same way, though we go about it in different arenas. My brother helps to heal the body. I help to heal the heart and soul.

Dad passed on his purpose and passion to both of his children. We took different roads to get to where we are today. But both my brother and I finish our days content, knowing we have made a difference. That’s living your passion, and knowing your purpose.

And I’m sure Dad is watching from the Celestial Balcony, content with what he passed on to those he loved.