"Twinless Twin - " a letter to 'Digger'

The following is taken from a post I wrote on a "Twinloss" group. "Digger" had written an amazing post about his sense of loss, not only of his brother, but (for a time) of his identity and sense of self.

Digger:

G'day to you whenever you read this, mate. (like the attempt at 'Strine?')

This post is going to be a long one, I can tell. It's past midnight, which is my best time for meditation and writing.

I read your post last week, and it's been in my head ever since. What you wrote hit me deep, and certain phrases of yours (quoted herein) sum up my feelings so exactly that I'd swear you'd been wandering about in my head.

What you wrote hits home for me in many ways. I'd never appreciated the conundrum ("who am I? what am I?") for what it was. "Marcus and me" had been so much one entity that I felt for a long time as though I was only half of what had been an entire being.

Who am I? I was Todd, Marcus's twin brother. He was the older brother (by 12 minutes), a bit taller, quicker, braver than me (my champion when we were young). He was very much the extrovert, quick-tongued and articulate; I stammered. When I was teased, he defended me and helped me with speech therapy, coaching me, encouraging me, cheering me on. "He was my king and I was his army" (well-put)

We slept together in the same bed until about age 11, when we began growing too large for one bed. So the single bed became two twin beds (ain't that ironic?) - and for months, I had night terrors. I'd wake up from moaning, shaking and sweaty - and he'd heard me and gotten into my bed to hold me so I wouldn't be scared when I woke up. I woke up more than once that way, with him smoothing the hair off my brow, and murmuring, "It's okay, I'm here. Love ya, bro." He was "my ever-present rock."

"As he sailed into the unknown, my identity went right along with him." We rarely sailed (usually surfed), but I do have memories of the two of us stripped to our swim suits, sprawled across the bow of a friend's boat, coming into Newport Harbor at sunset one summer, with Handel blasting from the boat's speakers.

The circumstances of his death altered all of that. "When you lose your sun, our world goes black."

"Those twins" had become "just me" - and I'd always known that he would survive me, until the rug was pulled out from under our reality.

Coupled with that, the spinal cord injury, the rehabilitation; the altered life of the brave new world of wheelchair life. Dead from the waist down - again, only half of what I'd been. Part of my memory was impaired, and when I could finally speak after months of aphasia, I was stammering again. "Lost, with no real purpose or direction."

I didn't doubt my twinship, but now I'd become not only a singleton, but an only child (and an "only surviving son," which meant I was no longer elible for military service; that, the paraplegia, and being gay - a trifecta).

I was going to be alone for the rest of my life (I thought at the time), and withdrew from the changed world. I was severely agoraphobic for a year - virtually mute, and a virtual hermit.

I ventured into cyber-space cautiously. In chatrooms, while others were using microphones, I always typed. I'd think carefully before writing, and sometimes found an odd spin or two on what someone else had said. I discovered that some thought me witty -- quick-witted, if not quick-tongued. I began to form friendships with people I'd never met, people all around the world who accepted me exactly as I was -- just as myself, Todd.

Between this group and a poetry group, I discovered that the feelings of loss and sorrow were still with me, so I wrote it all down -- put down on paper all the hurt, the confusion, the feelings of abandonment and emptiness. I wrote poems to, and about, Marcus. Some of them, dated "11/16/97" were written on the anniversary of his death; others were written on his/our birthday or on Ancestor Night (Samhain/Hallowe'en), when we remember the dead.

As time went on, I began to expand my focus. I'd been so busily involved with my feelings, that I'd almost excluded others from the picture. How my Mum and the Da kept soldiering on, with one son dead and the other crippled (so I thought), is miraculous to me -- but then I've always known that I'd been blessed not only with the world's best bro, but with the world's best parentos, as well.

So I reached out and researched "twins," and "surviving twins," and one day came across the phrase "twinless twins" and "twinloss," which struck me to the heart. I wrote to someone on the "Twinless Twins International" site, and "Riv" pointed me here.

I found this group, and began reading postings from others. I mustered up my courage and introduced myself to the group.

And the group embraced me. Everyone here supported me and lifted me up and out of "myself." They lifted me up out of the cold, black, silent place I'd found myself in.

They didn't "save my life" (although on more than one occasion, suicide had not only crossed my mind, it had pulled up a chair and begun talking). They helped me express here what I couldn't yet tell the parentos nor the therapists. They gave me focus. They gave me love. They told me that everything was going to be all right. At the time, I doubted that, but I now know it's the absolute truth.

Things are not only going to be all right, they're going to be amazing.

I've come through to the other side, and I know who I am and whereI fit in.

I'm Todd, twin to Marcus, surfer, poet, writer, son, other half of Brian, cat-Mom to Miranda, student, scholar, wit, gentleman, clown, wheelchair wiz, gay activist, Wiccan, wounded healer, and member of the Tribe.

It's been twelve years and a bit since Marcus was killed, and I've even managed to forgive the drunk driver who took him from me. In the Jewish tradition, at 13, one is a man (or woman). I think I'm on my way to becoming an adult (at 32), with Marcus's voice still ringing in my ears: "We insist on being happy . . . it's work, but it's sooooooooooo worth it!"

May all here and yours be happy, and Blessed Be.

(or, as I usually sign out in chatrooms)

Peace out.

Todd, twin to Marcus