My Brother

Two weeks ago, I sat in our marriage counselor's office, talking about my "family of origin". J had to work that day, so he wasn't able to come. Which was fine, because it gave the counselor and I some time to get to know each other a little better, and for her to learn a little more about my history.

We talked about me being a first child. We talked about my pretty much idyllic childhood. We talked about the relationships I have with each of my wonderful parents. And we talked about my brother.

Me and my brand new brother.
See how proud I am of him?

My little brother, S, is three years younger than me. It's just the two of us. We played and fought like
siblings do. Sometime we were tightly-knit and protective, sometimes we wanted to kill each other. You know how it is.

Since we were three years apart, we didn't share a school from the time I finished elementary school til my senior year of high school. Those are formative years, and we didn't overlap a lot. One of my favorite memories with S, looking back at that time, is the time we spent on swim team together during his Freshman and my Senior year of HS.

When I left for college, I kind of checked out from my relationship with my little bro. I still loved him and cared about him, of course, but I definitely didn't say so very often. And we didn't spend a lot of time together, and the relationship got distant.

The years passed and S also graduated from HS and went to college. By that time, I was (young and) married. I wrapped myself up in my "grown-up" life, and it was clearly more important that anything else. Right? Or something.

S went through a rough patch. He dabbled in this and that, went down some scary streets, and eventually came back to us, pretty broken and bruised.

It was nearly 4 years later when I realized how very far I got gotten away from S, and how far he was from me. Now, I felt like I couldn't even talk about the scary underbelly of the stuff we had each been through. We were back now, and that's all that matters. We can gloss over the rest of this stuff.

I never took the time to sit down with him and say "how did that affect you? What can I do to help? What have you learned?" Nor did I give him the same answers for my scary underbelly. By the time things were "all better" in our lives, I already had a kiddo, and S was working nights, and the time we had together was minimal and busy.

But, in sitting in that counselor's office, I talked and talked about my brother. I talked about how far away he got, and how happy I was to have him back. I talked about the distance, and how it hurt my heart. I talked about his life now, what I know of it, and how proud of him I am.

S's wedding day.
He is a wonderful man, who won a wonderful woman.

And that's what this post is about. S, I love you. I am so very proud of you. I have seen you in the heap deep black, and I have seen you come back from it. And that takes strength, and it takes maturity, and growth. And I've never sat down to say so, but I want to write it here. For the world to see (or a few people, I guess). For you to be able to read over and over and over again, if you want to. I want you to know that you are an amazing, brilliant, wonderful man. I am proud to call you my brother. I was proud to stand next to you at your wedding. I am proud to see the work you do for Habitat. I am proud to see the way you have striven to better yourself, the goals you have set, and the toughness you have overcome. And I want you to know that. You are worthy and loving and loved.

It shouldn't take someone else getting me to talk about my brother, for me to let him know that I love him. But that's what it took this time. I hope it takes less for you. I hope you reach out and affirm the people you love: your family, your friends, your spouse, your children. I pray that you tell them often and well what they mean to you. It is important and meaningful. It pushes back the dark of this world and makes hearts shine a little brighter.