My older brother and I lived on opposite coasts and saw little of each other. Two weeks ago, I was visiting his home because I had heard that his health was failing. I wanted to see him before he passed. Initially, I was going to tease him about his discourse having been reduced to MAGA talking points. But as my travel date approached, a violent wrenching within my chest and stomach compelled me to focus solely on thanking him. He had let me live in his home while I was in college. Moreover, after I finished school, he and his wife took care of our mother while I was in San Francisco running my life into the ground. To thank him sincerely, I had to weed out resentment over our political differences. I know I succeeded in conveying that gratitude even before I arrived at his death bed, because as soon as I referred to my years living under his roof, he said “I was always looking for ways to throw you out; it’s your …