I Took My Brother on a Vacation, And It Didn’t Turn Out As Expected

A story and lesson in practicing acceptance

I thought this was a great idea — maybe my best one yet. It was my attempt to unite my brother and me after forty years of not having a relationship. Besides sharing a room growing up, we were never close, so I figured I had to start somewhere.

It would have been much easier to chalk up the reason for a lack of a relationship to a nasty fight or some other rift between us, but those things never happened.

Undoubtedly, I thought the all-expenses-paid trip my wife and I provided my brother and his wife would be the jet fuel to spark a brotherly connection after all of these years apart.

I was excited as we loaded everyone’s bags into the back of my 4Runner before we headed out for the seven-hour drive to Chicago. My brother and his wife had never been there, and I was looking forward to being their city guide. I had visited the prior year when I took my dad on a father/son trip to celebrate his 70th birthday. I fell in love with the city during that trip, so the opportunity to return was a no-brainer.

I loved the city’s beautiful architecture, the electric vibe from the people walking the streets, the boats gliding down the Chicago River, and, of course, the food. The city made me feel alive in ways that living in the suburbs of Pittsburgh didn’t. Ironically, I’m not a big city person, but there was something magical to me about Chicago.

I bought us tickets and looked forward to watching our hometown Pittsburgh Pirates play the Chicago Cubs at historic Wrigley Field from the Catalina Club and sharing that experience with my brother.

But more importantly, I was pumped to spend time with him and start building a closer connection.

Even though we grew up in the same house with the same parents, our lives took two drastically different paths.

He never left the area we were raised in while I moved 1,300 miles away to Texas right after I graduated from college. I lived there for fourteen years, completely isolated from my family, and only saw them a handful of times during that time.

He married in his twenties and quickly had two kids, while I waited until I was 35 to get married and never had any interest in having children.

Throughout the years, I always felt like something was missing from not having a relationship with him, and I wanted to have one. In college, I lived with a set of brothers, and I remember being in awe of how much they loved each other. I envied how they wanted to spend time together. They were more than brothers; they were best friends. It was cool to see that, and I hoped it was possible for me too.

Now that I was back living in the same area, the opportunity was there to begin.

We safely made it to Chicago and dropped off our suitcases at the hotel on the Magnificant Mile. Soon after, we walked down to Lou Malnati’s next to the Wrigley Building for some deep-dish pizza. My brother was on cloud nine, savoring every bite of his mouth-watering pepperoni and sausage deep-dish pizza. It made me feel good to see him happy and enjoying himself. This is what it was all about.

After dinner, we boarded the Wendella for our Architectural River Cruise, leaving at 7:00 PM. It was cold and windy, but we powered through the cruise. My brother was fascinated by Ping Tom Park in downtown Chicago, so all we heard the remainder of the trip was him saying “Ping” what seemed like every ten minutes, which also tickled my OCD, resulting in me repeating it every time he did, much to our wife's chagrin.

I mean, we are brothers, right?

As great as the first day was, the trip quickly turned sideways on day two. The glee and jubilation transformed into me feeling sorry for my brother. My wife and I started to see his daily reality as the curtain got pulled back. I realized that maybe my expectations for the trip wouldn’t be met.

Instead of sharing memorable experiences with my brother and building the foundation for the brotherhood I sought, I slowly watched his face deflate as his wife said no to everything he wanted to do.

We made our way down to the Bean, and I watched his eyes light up at the mention of going to the top of Willis Tower to see the city from the observation deck. His wife quickly shot that down because it cost money. I told them my wife and I would pay for it, but his wife refused. She said no over a $35 ticket to go to the top.

We then walked over to Navy Pier. My brother’s face again perked up as he looked at the Centennial Ferris Wheel and wanted to ride it. Yet again, his wife quickly shot him down; she didn’t want us to spend money to ride it. Her pride got in the way.

Why are we on this trip if we can’t spend money on these experiences? Isn’t that what you do on vacation?

My wife and I asked if they were interested in doing the Gangsters and Ghost Tour, the Pizza Tour, the Segway Tour, or the Torture Museum, and his wife said no to everything, so we walked around and did nothing- on vacation.

It was eye-opening to see how she sucked the happiness right out of him. I felt terrible for him, and the trip became more about her unhappiness than two brothers spending time together. I was not happy about that.

When we returned to the hotel in the afternoon, I told my wife, “We shouldn’t have brought them here. It would have been way more enjoyable with just us. Why do I always do this? Why do I build up these romanticized expectations that never happen?”

The trip wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The game at Wrigley Field the next day was fun, but there was an overhanging tension among the group from the prior day. The same electric, fun vibe that I adored so much about the city was sucked away. We sat through an hour-and-a-half rain delay before the game, but it didn’t need to rain because we had already brought a wet blanket.

It wasn’t just her desire not to do anything; I was also shocked at how she spoke to my brother. She was short, rude, and disrespectful. Everything he did or said annoyed her. It made me wonder why they ever got married. The worst part was that she beat him down so much during the trip that it interfered with any connection I had hoped to form with my brother.

We made it home safely, and although the trip wasn’t the best, I thought we’d start hanging out. Perhaps I was naive to think this, but at least the money I spent on this trip was enough to garner a phone call from him to get together once we got back home. After all, I believe in the principle of reciprocity.

It’s been five months since we returned from Chicago, and I have not seen my brother once. A few text messages were exchanged, but that was it.

This experience taught me a few valuable lessons.

First, I can’t force my way into love or genuine relationships by spending money. Relationships need to happen organically, and they require two willing parties. Not that it was my intention, but underneath the surface, I felt an expectation to have my generosity reciprocated. I was wrong, and I’m glad I was because now I realize that would have meant the relationship would have been conditional, which is the opposite of love.

Life doesn’t care what I want or consistently work out the way I want, and that’s okay. As I continue to mature in my meditation journey, I’m learning to practice acceptance of all things, whether the circumstances are how I want them to be or not. I have to leave behind thinking and expecting things should be a certain way and be okay with what is.

I have committed to stop saying things shouldn’t be like this, or this shouldn’t be happening. Those phrases are non-acceptance and resistance, which was what I was saying during the trip with my brother.

It reminded me of what Eckhart Tolle wrote in his book A New Earth. Tolle wrote:

The ego cannot distinguish between a situation and its interpretation of and reaction to that situation. You might say “What a dreadful day,” without realizing that the cold, the wind, and the rain or whatever condition you react to are not dreadful. They are as they are. What is dreadful is your reaction, your inner resistance to it, and the emotion that is created by that resistance.

Tolle is right. If I had gone into the trip without any preconceived motives or expectations and welcomed whatever arose, it would have limited my self-imposed suffering. I wouldn’t have allowed my brother’s wife to have that much control over my happiness. What happened on the trip is what happened on the trip. It wasn’t good or bad; it’s simply what happened.

Acceptance and non-resistance to the present moment are two challenging parts of mindfulness, but they are the most liberating. Every time I pause and say to myself, “Right now, it’s like this,” the feelings flow through me instead of taking over me.

I hope my brother knows that even though we may not have had a relationship in the past or present, the moment he calls, I’ll be there because he’s my brother, and it’s okay if we aren’t close.

Next time we go to Chicago, my only stipulation will be that we leave his wife at home.

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