When I spent my first Christmas in my husband's family, Uncle Jurgens was there. He hadn't been able to come to our wedding, but I saw him at every family gathering and every summer at the seaside when we all got together.
Uncle Jurgens is what we call spastic—not severely disabled, but he walks with difficulty, his movements lack coordination (he can't cut his meat, for instance), and he has some mental retardation. He's sixty-two now.
Many years ago, then, he was born into a family that already had four daughters. He was welcomed with tremendous joy—as a boy often is after four girls—not only by his parents but by his four older sisters, who were delighted to help their mother care for the new baby.
Very soon they realized that this child had problems and required constant, specialized care.
At a time when rehabilitation as a science didn't yet exist, the whole family, with help from various people, worked hard to support the boy's progress and development. Jurgens learned to walk, though late and never quite right; he gained a certain independence and can even read and type. His sisters grew up, went away to school, got married. When Jurgens was twenty-eight, his mother decided that she had to think ahead—to plan for his future, his safety, and that she couldn't leave this heavy burden on her daughters' shoulders. She looked for and found a kind of residential community with Christian roots, and Jurgens moved there. Not without pain. An aunt of mine—Jurgens's sister—told me a few years ago that she had been the one to take her brother to this new home because their mother was too devastated by the separation. Jurgens came home often and never missed a holiday or family gathering.
The years passed. Jurgens's father and mother left this world.
Jurgens has a place to live where he feels safe, at home, and useful because he has a small job. But he still has his family: each of his four sisters takes him in from time to time, and as I said before, he joins us in summer, full of joy when he watches his many nieces and nephews play.
When his mother died, one of my aunts took her place and is now the sister responsible for Jurgens. She writes to him every week, looks after his clothes, his money, and any other problems that come up.
I think my husband's grandmother was very wise in organizing her son's life. I don't believe Uncle Jurgens ever felt abandoned. He was badly shaken when his mother died, but because his life was already well organized, he could cope with it much more peacefully.
I think any other arrangement would have made him suffer far more, sooner or later.
And to finish, I can say that Uncle Jurgens is truly part of our family.
by Nicole Schulthes, 1986