Well, he's not really a real brother, nor is he a brother in the sense of "what's up with you bro?"
We did not attend the same school and did not grow up in the same neighborhood, and we do not go to the same synagogue.
He is unfamiliar with sketches of the tracker or songs of the hive (though he has already been to a few performances of Tislam).
Still, he's my brother.
My non-biological brother is called his grandfather, and I first met him about ten years ago.
My father, who was then 80 years old, suffered a stroke, became partially paralyzed and was hospitalized in Tel Hashomer.
Already in the first days of hospitalization and rehabilitation we realized that his life changed from end to end, and from a healthy and energetic person - one who drives, travels abroad and cooks pasta with pesto while singing Italian in the kitchen - he became a sad, depressed and limited person.
In the biological family we are three brothers, I am the youngest and only one living in the country.
Mom was a little shocked by the new reality, and I realized I needed to take command and that the most urgent thing was to find my father a close caregiver.
I do not remember if I interviewed anyone before him or not, but when his grandfather arrived, a young and energetic Indian guy, I was fascinated by his smile.
I did not have the tools to test his abilities beyond the initial gut feeling and some basic questions, but I went for the smile and made no mistake.
His grandfather moved into my parents' house, and since then he has cared for my father with devotion.
It was very difficult for my mother.
She denied the new situation, thinking that my father was being pampered, that in a moment everything would return to what it was before and that we would manage on our own.
I understood her.
For everyone, and for her in particular, it is not trivial to bring a stranger from another country into the home.
But his grandfather was the best thing that ever happened to us.
He was revealed as a good, responsible, honest, faithful and loving soul.
He helped with all the household chores, shopping, maintenance, traveled with us to doctors, pharmacies and Yad Sarah, fixed the breakdowns at home, and we even got used to his special curry cooking and his lovely Indian nods from side to side, which I did not always understand their meaning.
But my mother kept resisting and saying "I don't need him."
After a few years, she and I had her stroke - and she too became paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair.
We also brought her a wonderful therapist from the Philippines named Mae, but she still thought she could manage on her own and that in a moment she would jump out of the wheelchair, come back to life and win a gold medal in a marathon at the Olympics, so no one really needed to launch her at home.
• • •
In the ten years his grandfather has lived with my parents I talk to him, or to Mae, every day, much more than with my close friends or my biological siblings.
They update me on my parents' mood, their medical condition, what medications to purchase and how they affect my parents, and I try to give them all the support they need, including traveling at six in the morning and standing in line at the Home Office or telling my mother to stop pinching them when they refuse to give her chocolate .
Recently there has been a vigilant discourse on the behavior of foreign workers in the country, including claims that they are leaving one job for better conditions elsewhere, leaving people facing a broken trough. We, too, were privileged to occasionally experience less sympathetic behaviors from substitute workers, but as far as his grandparents and May were concerned, we were lucky in the square. In the beginning, his grandfather used to play dice and thinking games with my father, but when his father, who was always the fastest in the game, realized that his grandfather was faster than him, they stopped. His grandfather has an extraordinary memory, he remembers all the birthdays of all the family members, including my parents, brothers, cousins and friends and girlfriends of all the grandchildren, whom I can barely remember what they are called. Mae, on the other hand, used to sing Filipino songs while at work and change colors in her hair, out of boredom.
They both still got to see my parents eating family Friday meals with us by lighting candles and food like royalty, and also twenty questions from the Haaretz newspaper when my dad stars - but no more.
As for my parents who are bedridden, and who hardly talk anymore, his grandparents and May are the answer to all their needs, including food, coughing, showering, moving in bed or turning on a light and TV.
More than once I have tried to explain to his grandparents and me that the lady so dependent on them now was once a well-dressed lady, a talented painter and a certified nurse in an operating room, and above all she is a Holocaust survivor.
And that the older man next to her was one of the founders of the state, one of the top industry figures in the country and one who ran huge factories and battalions of people.
To my delight, they admire the old movies in which my parents are seen traveling around the world, young and energetic.
• • •
His grandparents and May gave my parents their best years, and in the decade he was with us his grandparents saved quite a bit of money and invested in various income-producing properties.
I very much hope that when he settles one day with his wife in Goa, he will be, thanks to the years in the country, one of the established gentlemen in the region.
In the meantime they are with us, growing tomatoes and a cat in the yard, and his grandfather fills the buckets with the sand I arranged for him with cigarettes.
Mae has left behind a husband and children, and I'm sure she's full of longing.
I do not see myself traveling for ten years to work without the family in another country, and the thought of their sacrifice for their livelihood and the livelihood of their families, is admirable.
And now my brother and grandfather are getting married.
The intended bride is called Zaire, and she works in licensing Hyundai cars in Goa, India.
They met through his sister when they were both already in college.
If all goes well, I'll go to Zaire and his grandparents' wedding in December, and I promise to report from the field.
This will be a great opportunity to tell his parents how much he is dear to us, and to thank them for all he has done for them and for us.
Congratulations to his grandfather, and thank you, Mae and his grandfather, for everything.
Love you guys.
yairn@israelhayom.co.il