I am Janice’s brother. A brother from another mother. Her BFAM. She is my sister from another mister. My SFAM.
Janice was raised as an only child. But she did have a biological brother who died shortly after birth. So she hasn’t had the full experience of having a brother in her life.
So when Janice calls me her brother, it’s a poignant reminder of what I mean to her, what we mean to each other. I’m so honored to be seen this way.
Janice and I met as fellow participants in our first personal growth experience in 2003. She immediately liked me. I don’t usually establish quick connections with people. I’m reserved around strangers and hard to get to know. Janice is pretty much the opposite: Strangers are just friends she hasn’t met yet. Her enthusiasm and attention to me coaxed me out of my protective shell.
Janice was an instrumental part of that personal growth experience for me. Our collaboration for the next decade would change the trajectory of both our lives.
Janice saw me as a genuine hero at a time in my life when I felt like a zero. She continues to see me in a better light than I see myself, and she reminds me of this each time we talk.
My wife Jamie accompanied me to that 2003 workshop, and Janice’s daughter accompanied her. I got to know Janice’s husband Jeff when he attended the next workshop after ours. (It was a three-part workshop; we attended part two when he attended part one). So our families know each other well.
I started to make regular trip to North Carolina to see Janice, Jeff, and the family. If Jeff felt the least bit jealous by my visits, he didn’t show it. He would even go to work, leaving me and Janice alone in their home. Some men wouldn’t be so secure. He was right to have nothing to fear, but he didn’t yet know me well enough to know my character. So my guess is that he trusted Janice’s character instead. It’s one example of the secure and trusting love and respect in which they treat each other. I don’t know any couple who is more loving and tender to each other than Jeff and Janice.
When I met Janice and Jeff, they had two teenage daughters. Each of them had a toddler son. Both of the toddlers had special needs. The boys’ single teen mothers were not equipped to deal with special needs. (Who is ever equipped for such a thing?) Jeff and Janice stepped into the gap and raised these toddlers as their own.
Because I attended the workshop with one of her daughters (Brooke), my original relationships were established with both Janice and Brooke. I would get to know Jeff much better later.
My relationship with Brooke became co-dependent. This term means different things to different people, so I’ll explain what it meant when it came to Brooke.
I got a lot of satisfaction helping Brooke. I refurbished a computer and gave it to her. I encouraged her to find a job and to go to classes at a local junior college. She respected me, so she made an effort to please me and do what I wanted her to do. I kept in contact with her by phone several times per week. Janice was seeing results, and she encouraged me to continue my efforts. I promised her I would.
Here’s the co-dependent part: I needed to be seen as Brooke’s hero, as somebody important and special in her life. I needed her validation. Eventually she resisted my help (as teens are wont to do). I pushed her too hard and she broke off contact with me.
The rejection and exclusion was very painful. It was like my own daughter had stopped speaking to me. I had a tearful conversation with Janice about it. She saw the pain it was causing me. She released me from my promise to help Brooke.
And here’s the significance of that: Janice had been codependent with Brooke her entire life. But Mom had done her own personal growth and realized that she needed to let go of control of her daughter. So she recognized how I felt, and the importance of detachment with love.
Janice’s detachment from the chaos in her extended family is a work-in-progress, but she has made monumental strides. She and Jeff moved out-of-state from the rest of her family, a courageous step for someone who worries so much she can give herself a stress migraine.
She is no longer so entangled in her family drama. Of course, the drama doesn’t go away because she’s not a part of it, and sometimes she’ll get dragged back in. But I saw a switch flip in her mind and heart, and now she can observe and decide when and how to get involved instead of simply being engulfed by the turmoil. I’m truly impressed. She taught me the same lesson she herself learned through hard experience.
I got to know Jeff much better though our mutual involvement with the personal growth workshops. Janice and Jeff were both hired by the workshops, and I was a volunteer. Jeff and my involvement was primarily through group facilitation.
Jeff is a natural at working with groups. He is perceptive and wise. His mind is a steel trap. Even with larger groups, he could remember everyone he talked to and their names. He had the courage to stand before 40-50 workshops participants, be the face of the program, and ask them to do or talk about things they’ve never done or talked about before in their lives. He put people at ease. He was a rock for many people in the room.
Unfortunately, he was also mistreated, a wound that has yet to heal. He was manipulated, discounted, and disrespected. As a final insult, he was made president of the organization just as it was about to fail and was tasked with turning it around. This was like changing the captain of the Titanic as it was sinking.
Janice and Jeff haven’t had it easy. I tell Janice that if she finds herself going through hell, keep going.
One particular form of hell is due to the special nature of their grandchildren, whom they’ve raised as their own, each with their own special needs
The most heart-shattering story is with their Jordi. He had muscular dystrophy. I don’t know how much I should say here, in a public forum. But I will say this: It takes a special kind of parent to raise a child when they know the child will not survive childhood.
Jordi passed last year. Jeff was his father, his fulltime caregiver, his best friend. He kept Jordi alive for as long as it was possible for him to survive. I hope to be able to talk more deeply and freely (but privately) with Jeff and Janice when the emotions are not so white-hot and soul-crushing. Maybe that time is now and maybe it’s later. There is no timetable or roadmap for grief.
But here’s something Janice already told me, and it’s worth passing on. Many people know Jeff and Janice because they know Jordi, whether it be caregivers, medical professionals, pastors, etc. Many of them have reached out to Jeff and Janice to tell them how inspiring Jordi was and how it changed how they now look at life.
They told him how Jordi would never complain, always had a positive attitude, and was such a gentle spirit. I’m not doing this part of the story justice because I have to paraphrase what I remember about what Janice told me. She was much more detailed and eloquent than I could be about who Jordi is.
Jordi lives here on earth in the hearts of every person who has ever met him. Janice says that Jordi taught her and Jeff what it means to love.
Janice, Jeff and I have a relationship that’s been tempered in fire. Because we were all involved for so long in a personal growth program, there isn’t much we can’t talk about. They know my secrets and I know theirs. I can tell them anything, and often do. They know my faults and love me—not despite them, but because of them.
BFAM. SFAM. BFF.