Code of Silence

Grandfather Guilfoyle

In my grandfather's day, people used to shut away their mentally ill relatives and never speak of them again.  It was considered shameful.  Families were afraid of being judged and shunned if anyone found out.  That's why my no one ever spoke about my Great-Uncle Martin's nervous breakdown in Ireland.   
     At first when my older brother became mentally ill, my mother wanted us all to keep the code of silence.  As if anyone looking at him couldn't immediately tell something was wrong.  Eventually I grew used to people staring at us in public places.  We only took him to certain restaurants where they knew him and tolerated his odd behavior.  We learned to eat quickly so we could leave if he became agitated, sometimes spending the entire meal in complete silence for fear of setting him off on one of his tirades.  Happier childhood memories were soon replaced with images of him throwing his plate across the room on Christmas day and punching a hole in the wall on Easter morning.
     Although I didn't buy into the family secrecy, my sister did and it warped her sense of identity.  Soon she was lying about everything--why she lived with family friends and inventing summer homes and vacations to fit in.  Numbing her pain with alcohol and bulimia, she had more and more to hide until her secrets ruled her life.
     The day before my sister died she spoke to me about being unable to speak up at her AA meetings.  She said if she tried to talk about everything that had happened she would explode.  She was so afraid of ending up schizophrenic like our brother she chose to leave this world rather than take that risk.

     My brother was unable to attend her funeral or the funerals of our younger brother or our father.  We told him about them, of course, but he had retreated so much into his own private world by then that he barely reacted.  After years of living in a long-term care facility, my brother had become isolated from his family and former friends.  He hadn't seen our nephew since he was a little boy and now he has four children of his own. 
     Wanting my brother to have a connection with his family, I arranged a meeting with his great-nieces and nephews a few years ago at a fast food restaurant.  Their ready acceptance of him just as he is gives me hope that the code of silence has finally been broken.