I never sent this to my brother, (pictured here) one of five boys younger than me. I needed to write it only for myself, to help make sense of what was happening once I learned that he was dying. Cliff was always the black sheep of the family, abused and abusive, troubled and lost in ways that were unbearable to witness at times. His life was never easy and it certainly wasn’t going to be now. So, I wrote, to stay sane and to cope. It helped a lot.
January 17, 2003
Dear Cliff,
We have so many photos of our mother and father in uniform, including on their wedding day. There are photos of each of our brothers wearing them, too. Military service has always been a big part of our family, even during wartime.
It dawned on me that you are the only man among our siblings without a photo of yourself in uniform on the family wall. I used to think we should take one of those classic military portraits of you, wearing some army or navy outfit we rented or found, not to mock the real ones, but just for fun, so you too can be on that wall of fame everyone goes so ga-ga over.
I don’t think it’s ever really mattered to you, though, whether you had that particular kind of moment in the sun. Seems to me you were always proud of your brothers without feeling badly that you were not able participate in all that, as well.
What always comes to mind, when I think of all this, is that the “war†you’ve been fighting is not one that lasted a few weeks or years, but one that’s lasted a lifetime, from the moment you were born. There are no uniforms given out for that, no medals or commendations. You don’t get special photos proving you fought this war; no honors or ceremonies, nothing that obvious.
Still, there’s no doubt you did indeed fight that war, your own personal battle. What that encompassed only you truly know for sure, but I witnessed much of it, as your older sister, and it was as real, maybe even more so, than all the wars we know about through history books. Your war, your battles, your defeats and victories are, perhaps, deeper and more profound than disputes over land, rights, governments or religions. Your war was truly one of basic, fundamental survival in this world; not merely physically, but the survival of your very heart and soul.
Know what Cliff? You won. You’re near the end of all your fussing and fighting, your own private assaults and defenses, and your success has clearly been achieved.
Will you get any medals or honors? No. Not from this world, not from other people, but honored you will be, indeed. From someplace deep within you, from a place more substantial than anything this world can offer, those ceremonies are taking place and I see that more clearly than any external display of valor I have ever witnessed. The battlefield is emptying, your enemies, those unseen forces you fought against for over 49 years, all lay defeated now. You, alone, are left standing, proud yet humbled, victorious yet grateful.
Maybe you don’t agree with my view on all this. Knowing you as I do, knowing your humility and refusal to acknowledge your great qualities, you will likely read this and think, “Oh, that’s just a bunch of melodrama she’s written.†For me, my sweet, dear brother, it’s the farthest thing from fiction or make-believe. It is the absolute truth about you, Clifford John Wilmore. Your life has been an extraordinary journey, at times, painful and sad, beyond comprehension. Other times, filled with the freedom and happiness only someone as unique as you could ever know.
In the past few years, living near you, I’ve had the chance to watch, as you kept on waging your battles, not always winning, but never giving up, and now finally achieving your goals; at long last triumphant over the enemy that attacked you, time and time again.
You had so many reasons to quit. You thought it was over for you at so many thousands of terrifying moments. Yet here you are, still standing, still moving forward with more control of your own territory, your own existence, than ever before.
There’s that saying, “Fight the good fight.†If anyone I know has done that, it’s surely you. True, your challenges are not quite over. This illness is part of that, but it is just not the same as those dark forces that tried to bring you down time and time again in the past. Now, this is simply the body, facing something it cannot defeat. Yet even in this, how many years has this physical struggle gone on while you rose up to challenge it again and again and again, overcoming your surgeries, treatments and pain to live on and enjoy, far beyond what may have been expected.
This time, your body may be too tired to continue, but that is far from failure my dear Cliff. It is not defeat, it is wisdom and acceptance. This time, the surrender is not from weakness or lack of will. It is simply time to allow your body to rest and to say “Thank you for all you have doneâ€.
What can anyone really say to you that even comes close to the depth of experience you are having right now? Our mere words can never touch it; our minds can never really comprehend.
This is a deeply sad time for you and for all who love you so very much. It is also, though, a precious time, for so, so many reasons. I hope you are able, between bouts of pain and discomfort, to see and feel those precious moments in your life, as they continue to come with each breath and allow you to exist. I hope I can see those precious moments in my life, too, because each of us will walk the path you walk now, somehow, someday. I could even leave this world before you. There are no assurances about any of that, so I try not to assume I know who is “next.†I try to embrace my own precious time on this Earth, and I wish for you, the same.
I have always been proud of you, because I saw your struggles, I understood your defeats but I saw much more than that in these years we’ve shared as siblings and friends. Now, once again, I see what you are doing, how you are facing this, and as always, your refusal to blame or to seek vengeance against your attacker, this time, called “cancerâ€. You are brave beyond recognition. You will never be honored or celebrated in a worldly sense, but in the world of your loving God and Creator, who resides in your heart, you are truly being recognized as that soldier, that wonderful warrior whose mission is almost accomplished.
The smoke is finally clearing, Cliff. The war is over, and you are on your way back home.
I love you,
Sister C
