Wednesday, March 11, 2015
This is my little brother with my mom and me... probably around 1974 or so.
He's two years younger than me, and as a bona-fide younger brother was the bane of my existence from the time I was about 8 until I left for college.
For the longest time, I thought there was nothing he enjoyed more than making me cry. He would take the heads off of my Barbie dolls. He would make fun of me. He would pull my hair. He would sit in my general vicinity. He existed.
As we moved into our teen years, we had an uneasy coexistence. From my older sister perspective, it seemed he got away with everything. It seemed like he was Mom's favorite because they liked the same music and just generally seemed to get along. It seemed like he could get good grades without even trying. It seemed like he could have fun and do whatever he wanted while I was the responsible one.
As I got older, though, I began to realize that perhaps I was being too harsh. What I didn't know until later was that after I left for school, he went through some pretty hard times with our mom. I think there's probably a lot about his final years of high school and early college years that I still don't know.
But my.... how times have changed.
Now we're both in our forties and parents ourselves. Our relationship has grown and changed and now I can't imagine my life without him. He and his family live about three hours away from us, and we don't get to see them nearly often enough.
I no longer see him as a spoiled brat. I see an amazing dad who loves to have fun with his boys and who dotes on my girls.
I no longer see an irresponsible boy. I see a person who loves his career, who cares for his land, who would do anything for his family, not just his wife and his boys, but also for me, for Dan, or for our girls.
I no longer see a pest. I see my brother, this link to our mom who died too young.
I'm proud to have a brother like him.
Even if he still knows how to push my buttons.