My Brother as an Adult

My brother, David Salamandick, lived at Jenn’s Place for eight years, from 2008-2016.

I’ve always said that my brother’s death was a shock, but not a surprise. He’d had hundreds, if not thousands of seizures and many other health issues along the way. He was medically fragile, but for most of my life, he was just my red-headed, often very loud little brother.

I loved him very much, even though he was absolutely terrible at hide-and-seek.

I take great comfort in knowing that he had a full and stimulating life as an adult in a CARE home. His death also brought new meaning to the Edmonton Folk Music Festival for me, because a couple of days before he died, he was at the Festival, taking in the music, people watching, and hanging out with a friend from Jenn’s Place.

When I was in elementary school, I got to attend a few Siblings’ Day events. X put these days together for children who had brothers and sisters who were handicapped or disabled in some way. I didn’t understand the significance of these days when I was attending them because I didn’t really understand how different my family was, when compared to lives of the kids I went to school with.

I didn’t realize that on those days — that one day each year — I was actually surrounded by kids who were living similar lives to me. My parents always normalized the parts of my life that weren’t “normal”. The braces on my brother’s legs or his wheelchair didn’t seem odd to me, I just wondered where my friends’ younger siblings’ braces and wheelchairs were.

David came everywhere with us and did everything that we did. Until he couldn’t.

Scoliosis twisted his body and made some of the activities we used to enjoy as a family impossible. At first it was just fun things, like going fishing or golfing that got harder for us to do with David. And then it was things like getting in and out of the bathtub or lifting him from his wheelchair into the car. Soon those things — the true necessities, the general day-to-day care and movement things became impossible to do safely as well.

By then, I knew of course that we weren’t “normal”, and I didn’t think we’d ever find a place for David to fit in as an adult. Then my parents got involved with CARE. (I had already moved out and was doing that early-20s-finding-myself-type-of-thing, but my parents kept me in the loop.) Eventually, my parents asked me to meet Terry, whose youngest daughter, Kelly, was already a resident at Jenn’s Place. And pretty soon after that, we were buying stuff for David’s new home.

Before that first Christmas Party at Jenn’s Place, I’d never been in a room with a group of people who lived what we lived. That room full of people truly understood who David was to us and who we were to him. I also met a woman who was a sister to her sister, like I was a sister to David. Hi, Ashley!

David’s time at Jenn’s Place was an incredible gift that I will always be grateful for. Along with his friends and the talented and caring staff team, David really explored Edmonton — he saw more movies and hockey games, and definitely attended more city events and festivals than I ever did!

One time, I came to visit him in the early evening and walked into a rambunctious karaoke party. Neither my parents or I are karaoke fans, so David had never had this opportunity before, and he certainly seemed to enjoy himself!

When your child or sibling lives in a CARE home, they make new discoveries about the world around them. Their world becomes bigger than the one you built for them as a family — they grow on their own, in a home of their own and with a community of their own. It’s a beautiful thing and you will love being part of it.

If you’re wondering or worried about what the rest of your sibling or child’s life will look like, get involved with CARE. This organization will open your eyes and bring comfort and security to your life. You’ll find answers to your “what-ifs” and you’ll meet people who will understand your version of the world.