#david brady

One of my favorite stories about the Brady family is this one: the first night they were all at home after Cal was born, Eilidh (who was 4) went to his room to hold his hand because he was crying, and when their parents found them, they pulled out the couch and the whole family slept in the nursery that night. To use love language terminology, Eilidh has always been a physical touch/quality time person, and quality time is the love language the family has most in common. Being able to be near her family (including her non-related, chosen family) has been central to Eilidh’s decisions about her life; if it wasn’t, she might be living anywhere now, she might be even more advanced in her career, but she’s chosen to stay near home for now.

The fact that Cal lives in New York is hard on her–on all of them, but especially on Eilidh–but Cal’s primary love language, in addition to quality time, is words of affirmation. He’s always been very good at expressing his feelings in words, and he wants and needs to hear other people do the same, and so skype and phone calls are essential to his ability to live away from home. That does kind of clash with Eilidh–she’s much more of a nonverbal person and even went through a time when it was very hard for her to tell even her family members that she loved them–but she admires the hell out of her brother for the risks he takes and, so she puts up with only getting to hug him a couple times a year.

Because he’s more of a talker and more open about things, Cal is somebody Eilidh’s always been able to talk to about issues and feelings that she can’t articulate with other people. He’s helped her through a lot–sometimes unknowingly–just by being a safe place where she can say things she hasn’t worked out how to actually say yet. And for Cal, Eilidh is someone who helps him figure out how to look after himself, which is something he really needs. He’s so open with his feelings and affection that it’s easy for people to take advantage of him, and it’s in talking things through with Eilidh that he’s able to see people and situations with a little more… not quite cynicism but realism. Self-preservation. And the truth is, his ability to be emotionally open like that is partly the result of having her looking after him his whole life. It’s easier to take risks and be vulnerable when you know you’ll always have somebody loving you unconditionally and protecting you when you need it. 

Their parents aren’t as verbal about affection as you might expect writers to be. Peggy’s love language has always been gifts. She’s not extravagant, but her way of showing her kids love was to give them the things they needed to explore their passions: books, art supplies, trips to see plays, etc. I haven’t quite fleshed this out, but I think she grew up in a family where they didn’t have a lot of money to spare, and hobbies often weren’t in the budget. Poetry was one of the talents she could pursue without that material support, but she never wanted her kids to feel that any doors were closed to them. Now that they’re adults, she gives them other things: for Eilidh, it’s flowery, locally-made soaps and random cool things from antique stores that Peggy picks up on her trips around the country. For Cal, it’s more practical things like ordering him groceries when he’s between shows and low on money. It’s never about buying affection; that’s important. It’s just a way of saying I love you, and her kids understand that. Cal calls her to thank her and they talk for hours or Eilidh invites her over to help rearrange the living room around a curio that Peggy found for her, and they argue about tea vs coffee and end up going out for both. Gifts are a way to connect.