He’s concerned about his sister, of course, but he’s also concerned about me. He expressed sympathy for how I must have been struggling with this my entire life, and how much courage it must have taken to reveal this part of myself to the people I love, and how glad he is that I’m finally able to come to terms with my identity. She tells me that he heard the words “gender dysphoria” and immediately knew what that meant. My wife makes that call because she is much closer to him than I am. The last call is to the one remaining brother-in-law. I think I’m learning more about them during this process than they’re learning about me. My family doesn’t talk about our feelings much.
#Scattered fragments meaning how to
I have no idea how to handle any of this. Mom almost starts to cry about all the friends she’s losing. He always compares himself unfavorably to me - “the normal son.” One of my brothers-in-law asks for a referral to my therapist. Now that I’ve opened the floodgates by being vulnerable for once, everyone else wants to do the same.
He killed himself by driving his hearse up to the police station, parking it out front with a note instructing them to take him to the competing funeral home in town, and then drinking formaldehyde. She has it, my brother has it, and her mother probably had it. Dad tells me he was on Prozac when I was young. That’s the thing they really want me to be treating. Nobody wants to talk about gender dysphoria.
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