Sometime this week the guardian ad liedem attorney for my brother will be phoning me to ask some questions about my brother. It is his job to search for other heirs my brother might have to be sure I am next of kin. This seems proper and right. I know very little about his life the last few years. I have only guesses. This task is laying heavily on my heart. I don't want to diminish my brother in any way, and must tell the truth. But what is the truth? Now there's the rub. Buddhism has taught me not to be possessive of anything, not even the truth. It's easier for me to think about not lying. But the truth? I've wondered about that since I was a teenager.
Every part of his life I may be asked to discuss is so painful, so pitiful, and gives no essence of who he was to be around. He was funny and enthusiastic, easy to be with and good with people. Yet he was a kind of hermit. The facts of his life give every indication of a man not liking people. I believe a truer observation is that he feared something about other people, maybe getting hurt, maybe their judgment about his life.
I feel like I will be asked to speak for him, and anything I say will really be about myself and my emotions around him. I'll do the best I can, but I'm afraid it's going to be deeply upsetting to me.
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