How Do You Grieve for Someone You Didn't Really Know?

It has been a rather strange couple of weeks....  I have always known that I had a half-brother and a half-sister from my father's first marriage, but, since they were grown when I was born, I was raised as an only child.

For reasons I will not go into here, my half-sister cut all ties to my father when I was an infant, so when asked about siblings, I would say that I had a half-brother, plus a half-sister I had never met.  Sadly, she and my father never mended fences.  (Yes, that is where I got the ability to hold grudges.)  Happily, when her sons grew up, they visited my father a few times.  He was so happy and proud of them.

My half-brother Jim made few and far between appearances in my life.  He would occasionally call and upset my father by asking to speak to "the old fart."  A few times, he came to our house, but I grew to dread these visits.  He always smelled like beer and would have a hefty supply with him.  That may be why I hate the smell of beer so much.  Jim and my father both had prickly personalities, so it was oil and water - or maybe gasoline and fire - at times.

One of the main stories about Jim that I remember is that he attended LSU at the same time the famous Jim Taylor did.  My brother, Jim Taylor, was in the band while the famous one made a name for himself playing football.  From what I understand, their mail was often mixed up. 

Jim did appreciate my mother and all the things my parents did to help him when he was younger.  My parents adored Jim's first wife and their son.

I can't say that I felt I really knew Jim. I remember his second wife and his stepdaughters.  I don't think I ever met his third or fourth wives.  (I don't even remember #3's name!)  Jim was the "distant" relative who would breeze in and out of my life.  He was good at making promises, but not good at keeping any of them.  When I was in high school, I was contemplating becoming a social worker.  Jim told me that when the time came, he was going to pay to put me through Newcomb College, a private college in New Orleans.  It wasn't until I started college at Loyola (and no, I didn't become a social worker!) that I realized that it was just hot air.

After my father passed away in 1986, Jim didn't write my mother and me off as other members of my father's family did.  Jim would call my mother every now and then to see how she was.  I do believe that he truly loved and respected her.  

About five years ago, my mother had physical and mental issues that required nursing home care.  Since her house was in her name, my name and Jim's name, I had to track him down when we decided to sell it.  I found out that he had serious health problems of his own.  The last time I spoke to him on the phone, he was in a rehab hospital and I could barely understand him.

I was contacted last week by Jim's son, my "half-nephew."  He wanted to let me know that Jim was in hospice and would not live much longer.  He and I spoke a few days later and he let me know that Jim's condition had deteriorated.  He was now in and out of consciousness.  I just asked him - if Jim had a lucid moment - to please just tell him that I loved him.  He contacted me a couple of days later to let me know that Jim had passed away.  Before he died, my nephew gave him my message and he felt that Jim understood.

I was very sad to hear of his death.  I don't know that I was grieving for Jim, but for that side of the family that I never really knew.  If there is a silver lining, it's that I have reconnected with Jim's son and have "spoken" with his daughter via Facebook.  I have also connected with one of my half-sister's sons.  I think we all would like to become more like family.  That would be a good legacy for Jim and my father.

My prayer has been that you now have peace, Jim.