Letting go again and again and again

Last night, I finally watched God’s Creatures shot in and around Donegal, Ireland. The film is set in a fishing village where lives are tethered to the sea. When the oysters and salmon are plentiful, the villagers are able to make enough to survive. When fungi invade or catches are sparse, however, their livelihoods are threatened.

While not the best of images, the expressions on the faces of both mother and son are an indication of the pain and wonder of this film.

Brian O’Hara (played by Paul Mescal, one of my favorite rising Irish actors), the son of one of the local families, returns to the village after several years away in Australia. It’s evident from the moment he appears in a village pub that he left Ireland on unfavorable terms, the cause of which is never completely revealed–and his return is viewed warily by many who are unconvinced that Brian has changed. His mum, Aileen (actress Emily Watson), holds out hope that her son has “grown up,” as she puts it, and has returned home to make an honorable living in the tradition of his father and grandfather before him.

As the story unfolds, Brian is involved in some nefarious business activity and eventually accused of assaulting a young woman in the village. Aileen lies to the Gardai to give her son an alibi, and the charges against him are dropped.

Things take a turn, though, when Aileen realizes that her son shows no remorse for the things he’s done, even joking about it in the same pub where he first reappears in the village and where he crossed paths again with the woman claiming assault. Brian’s unwillingness to acknowledge the pain he has inflicted is too much for his mum, and she lets him go one last time. The scene is which this decision on Aileen’s part plays out is powerful, so I’ll leave it up to readers to watch rather than attempt to describe a mother’s indescribable act.

God’s Creatures was beautifully made, and the setting took me back to a visit to Donegal town where I stood on a rocky plateau watching the tide come in. But the story and Brian’s character reminded me also of my own family dynamics growing up.

As I’ve written in previous posts, my only sibling suffers from severe psychosis–mental illness caused by a triad of diagnoses including psychopathy, schizophrenia, and bipolar II disorder. From an early age, my brother seemed incapable of empathy. In fact, he relished the power he felt when hurting others physically and emotionally.

As my sibling aged, his detachment from others became increasingly evident. He hurt people willingly, sometimes gleefully, yet denied any responsibility or remorse. My parents, extended family members, and friends assumed/prayed that he would outgrow this difficult stage as surely all adolescents experience an ounce of narcissistic behavior on their path to adulthood.

But my brother’s behaviors grew worse, not better, over time. At 63, my brother routinely faces charges for theft, sexual and physical assault, and hate crimes. He’s been in and out of correctional facilities and psychiatric hospitals more times than I can count, and roams from one state to another while making his home on the streets.

One by one, my parents and I learned to let go. I’m not sure there’s any greater pain than realizing that someone you care about lacks a conscience and that allowing that person to remain in your life is a reckless choice. For each of us, there was a pivotal moment when letting go became the only way to survive.

The severing of a familial bond is fraught with second-guessing and pain that comes in waves, especially around the holidays. I think often of the sadness my parents experienced, especially in their final years, over the son they brought into the world. Neither of them made peace with the hurt he caused to so many, and they wondered aloud what they might have done differently to change the course of events.