Gloria Reuben - My Brothers Keeper: Two Brothers. Loved. And Lost.

Advance Praise for My Brothers Keeper

In this intensely intimate account, Gloria Reuben reveals how the deaths of her brothers led her to a deeper understanding of the importance of family bonds, spirituality, and ultimately the joy of being My Brothers Keeper. Beautifully crafted, Reuben must confront the endless questions of why and what ifs after her brother Davids death at age twenty-two. Years after the sudden death at age fifty-nine of her brother Denis, she finally finds peace, coming full circle in her quest, relishing in the joys that each shared and the life lessons she carries today as an actress and, more importantly, a loving sister, because of them. A read, at times sad, but an inspiring love letter and reminder to all of us who have lost siblings.

Pete Earley

Anyone who has lived through the death of a loved one should find comfort and truth in these pages.

Jessie Close, Author of Resilience: Two
Sisters and a Story of Mental Illness

A POST HILL PRESS BOOK

ISBN: 978-1-64293-410-6

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-64293-411-3

My Brothers Keeper:

Two Brothers. Loved. And Lost.

2019 by Gloria Reuben

All Rights Reserved

Cover art by Cody Corcoran

Author photo by Aaron Sarles

Interior design and layout by Sarah Heneghan

All photos are from the authors personal collection.

This is a work of nonfiction. All people, locations, events, and situations are portrayed to the best of the authors memory.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Post Hill Press

New York Nashville

posthillpress.com

Published in the United States of America

To all who seek solace

from the pain of losing a loved one

~brother, sister, parent, friend~

I hope this book helps bring you

peace of heart.

Hope for the future.

And a knowingness that you are not alone.

Special thanks to David Vigliano.

Your belief in me and your unwavering support right out of the gate will forever be appreciated.

Table of Contents

I t was the magic hourthat slip of time when youre not quite awake and not quite asleepon an early morning in May 1998. I was in my home on Westridge Road in Brentwood, California. I loved that home. It was a sweet, cozy place, perched on the side of a canyon, with a wall of glass generously offering up gorgeous views of the mountains cupping the valley. And on those rare days when the smog played hooky, a spectacular vista of the great Pacific waited.

I was dreaming of my brother David. I dont recall the details, but I know it was a dream about him, for I felt the restlessness in my body and the longing in my heart that I always felt while dreaming of him.

Davids death, twelve years ago this year, has left my shattered heart still in shards. I try to piece it back together. Smooth out the edges. David was two years younger than me, and his death crushed me.

I feel like I failed him. Like I didnt take care of him as I should have, since I was the one who was closest to him in age. Since he and I were the unwanted ones. The two Reuben kids who were born after my father had prostate trouble. We werent supposed to be here.

A few days before his twenty-second birthday, David gave away the few possessions he had. Then he swallowed a bottle of antidepressants.

Its the most difficult thing, not being able to say goodbye. Wondering at least once a day what his last thoughts were that made him decide ending his life was better than continuing it. Recognizing every day in my own life, the loneliness and isolation that drew him to that choice. Drowning in the certainty that its part genetics, and part unspoken and unhealed emotional and psychological distortions that enveloped our home while we were growing up.

The dream ended. I was semi-awake. Groggy. The sun must have been on the rise, because my bedroom held a natural glimmer of golden light.

He was there in the room with me. My brother David. I felt his presence as if he were standing right there in flesh and blood. His soul reached out to me, and he asked without speaking, Do you want to see what its like on the other side?

I thought I was still dreaming. I could feel my spirit move towards him. I wanted to go. Join him. See what it was like. But then fear entered my heart. A distinct and strong feeling overcame meI might not come back.

All grogginess dissipated. I was now fully awake. David was gone. Again.

If he asked me today, I would go with him. Even if it meant that I wouldnt come back. It would be worth it, just to be with him again.

July 2000

I was born the fifth of six children. David was the youngest. Jesus, he was a beautiful child. And I loved him. I still love him more than I can express.

I have no children. None of my siblings have children. Our perspective, our hope for bonding with others in a familial way, was marred from our debilitating upbringing. At least thats what happened with me. I actually shouldnt speak for anyone else (something I continue to learn quite late in life).

Yet before the time when even the prospect of having children existedbefore Davids death, before the death of my father when I was twelvethere were pockets of laughter, levity, and love.

I wish I could give you countless specifics or a detailed timeline of my first twelve years of life. Believe me, if I could, I would. But I cant give you what I dont have. And I dont have the memory of much of those years.

But I can capture and share with you the feelings, the snapshots, the beauty and joy of two siblings who spent a lot of time together.

David and memaybe it was because of some instinctive yet unspoken knowingness that we were pocketed in a separate way (unexpected births), or maybe it was just the nature of things, but we were two peas in a pod.

We played together. Simple, fun stuff. Thank God it was a time long before cell phones, so our young eyes and minds were not glued to numbing and desensitizing screens. We were the lucky ones, being raised in an era when you could ride your bike for as long as you pleased, experiencing freedom and independence while winding through tree-lined streets and returning home as the sun started to set. Zooming toy Mattel cars through Lego-lined villages set up on the basement floor. Ice skating on the front lawn after an ice storm shuttered the schools for the day. Raking fallen leaves as autumn set in. Splashing to our hearts content in the small wading pool in the back of our house when the summer heat bore down and we needed a little cool escape.

Its so sweet and sad, thinking of those innocent days.

Have you ever wondered where you would go or what you would do and say if you could travel back in time? I understand that it very well may be a futile and silly waste of time even thinking about it, and as a relatively intelligent person, Im not proud of mentioning it. But I do think about it. I ponder it a lot.