St. Patrick’s Day blessings
March 17th, 2021
I walked into the high tunnel today to water the growing plants and was thrilled to see the first blooms of the season. One little purple anemone and a couple of fragrant daffodils. Today is also the birth and death anniversary of my brother Patrick. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that this is the second year that the seasons first blooms fall on this day. I choose to believe that he might just be “across the way”, working his magic on these blooms to gift me once again with a reminder of him and the joy that he brought to life in how he lived.
To know Patrick was to receive many, many gifts, as a favorite pastime was shopping at the dollar store seeking out the perfect gift for a particular person. To this day, I find pencils, buttons, letters, stickers and jewelry throughout my drawers and cabinets, all treasures I’ve received over the years from Patrick.
One of the most enduring gifts however, when I think of him, was the way he embraced people. He saw them as souls, rather than simply labels. Patrick lived his life as a gay man with a mental and physical disability. He and I were less than 1 year apart and so basically grew up together. I spent my younger years pretending not to know Patrick as his differences and eccentricities garnered way too much attention for my need to “fit in” and be “cool” and go unnoticed. I am not proud to say that I can recall more times than I’d like to remember where I pretended not to know my brother at school or hide from him on the bus so he wouldn’t sit with me or even take part in mean neighborhood pranks on him with other kids. What my younger self was too wrapped up in conforming and fitting in to notice was that Patrick was living his own life, unapologetically himself, and that is way cooler than trying to fit in.
He didn’t care that I dissed him every time we were in public, he greeted me with open arms and loved me anyways. He didn’t care that people could be mean to him for being different or treat him as less-than-equal, he brushed it off, and loved himself anyways. He wouldn’t care if the Vatican didn’t acknowledge his gayness, he would’ve lived it proudly, knowing his mother loves him unconditionally and isn’t that really divine love. Patrick lived his own life, in his own way, loving people for who they were inside and if you were lucky enough to be in his circle, and it was a wide circle, you could feel that love through his actions.
I’ve come to terms with my younger self’s inability to stand up for Patrick or be more protective of him, as I was really just an insecure kid. However, I am an adult now with a voice that can make a difference and stand up for those who are marginalized by society based on their sexuality, disability, race, gender non-conformity, or any other various labels used to oppress.
To honor who Patrick was in life, I am reminded every day of three things; judgement of others is really the most uncool of all actions; there is always room for forgiveness (pretty sure this might be why his heart was so ginormous!) and that LOVE is an action. It’s not enough to say it. We have to make the steps that show it. Cheers to Patrick and the gifts that you continue to give.
