Brothers

When was it that anyone of us realized that the bond that we share with our closest siblings was destined to be eternal? At a younger age we take for granted so much about these younger or older extensions of our lives. It is not until one day we rudely wake up to the realization that they are moving to college, getting married, or even taking a job at a no longer driving distance, that we find ourselves left with a sort of hole, if you please, that cannot be filled by anyone or anything else in our lives. Funny that at a certain age we tend to drift apart because of different interests and the group of friends that take over our social life, but then later on in life the gap becomes smaller and smaller, and our differences start to blend within our much different individual personalities, and the need to reconnect becomes of primal importance. Nobody knows your heart as well as a brother or sister knows your heart. The common experiences, the parental link, and the household environment all together create some sort of virtual clear coat that interconnects our closest siblings with each of us. For those of you that have never been blessed with the gift of brotherhood (of sisterhood for that matter), I am sorry to tell you that you are missing out on an amazing experience.

I understand how many families drift apart and some even stop talking to each other with the passage of time. Matrimonial life, work responsibilities, and even the challenges of parenting can serve as an excuse for not having the time to be connected with anyone else other than those that are inside your bubble of life. For some people bitter disagreements, money, and trust issues have created a wall between the same individuals that in youth had once been placed on worshiping pedestals. Some parents get divorced and then re-married in search of the oh so elusive happiness, then forming new relationships that somehow, sometimes, change the hierarchy and order of relevance between siblings. The reasons are too many to account for them all, and I honestly understand your reasons if you have somehow drifted away from the connection that once was so significant in your younger life with a brother or a sister. Do not think for an instance that I am here to find blame and much less pass judgement on any particular situation.

All of this been said, I must confess with regards to the completely and totally opposite experience that I have with this subject in my life. We were once three, and later became four when my youngest brother was born 12 years after me. Not once, I repeat, not a single time have I ever felt left behind by either of my older sisters or my younger brother. I was the youngest for 11 years and 18 days, yet when my brother was born, I suddenly became an older brother which was and still is one of the best things that ever happened to me in my life. My fancy free and little guy around the house lifestyle was instantly replaced with all of the refreshing smells and sounds of a baby brother. This I had been asking for, actually more like begging for, since I was a baby myself. I wanted a companion to play with, to share with, to boss around of course, but more than anything to be my brother. I had obviously given up on the idea many years before since I could only assume that the baby factory had already been shut down, but from the day my mom announced that our family was in the process of expanding, all that I could think about was that I was finally getting my wish. In fact, I remember dreaming of some strange number, of which I made all sorts of deciphering and decoding with my nerdy mind and soon I had the month, day, and even time that my brother was supposed to be born. By some amazing coincidence I was actually right on the money! Kind of scary, huh? That was the day that I knew that even before he was born, my brother was already bonding and a seriously integral part of me too.

The age gap was huge, which should of made our relationship somehow weak, but there is nothing weak about my relationship with my brother. Sure enough we had very little in common with respect to our childhood interests, after all by the time he was in Kinder I was already headed for college. However, I never saw this as a handicap to play or share with him, instead it was an opportunity to be a kid all over again. I remember when I had just started college, taking my brother out on a side road next to our house to teach him how to ride his bike without any training wheels. I sat on the back end of the banana seat while he rode the driver's position with pedals and all. My job was to maintain balance so that he could gain confidence on the steering and pedaling. Half way down the sloped road I let go of the backup handlebar position assuming he had it all under control when suddenly we hit a wide crack on the road that made us both lose control of the bike. One moment we were smiling and laughing, the next we were flying through the air with absolutely nothing to break our fall ahead of us into the pavement. He went face first on to the road completely tearing skin and lips with the horrible fall. In my desperate attempt to avoid the incident, somehow I went over myself and dislocated my knee on the fall. As soon as I saw all the blood coming from his face, I tried to get up but the pain was excruciating from my dangling leg. I bit my lip and I grabbed on to my leg and "SNAP" it painfully went back into place. Bike left behind I grabbed on to my brother and with a rushed limp carried him back home in hopes that whatever injuries he had suffered could be healed by others. We were both taken to the hospital where he had stitches on his lips and the painful process of having a lot of gravel taken out of a lot of his ripped off facial skin. I was treated for the dislocated knee with pain killers and some crutches which I later traded for a crazy looking cane offered by a neighbor. Once home, every time I would look at my poor little brother's swollen and disfigured face all I could think of was why did I ever let go of the handlebars? If I had never let go, the whole thing would of never happened. Eventually he healed back to a very handsome young man with a small scar on his lip to remind us both of what it means to be brothers. Every time the weather gets really cold and humid, sure enough my knee also reminds me of our bond.

I am by far the most fortunate man in the world when it comes to the riches I possess between the hearts of my two sisters and my brother. I cannot imagine anything in the world being as precious and special to me. Mom and dad will always have their place, maybe the most important one in my heart, but my brother and sisters have more emotional real estate in my heart than anyone else will ever have because of the amazing love that we share for one another. Each of them, individually has an infinite number of reasons to be loved by me. What is even more amazing is that because of them I have never really known what it feels to be lonely in my heart. I might of had moments of solitude in which I have felt desperate in my own quest for emotional balance, but loneliness is not an option because of how much each one of them is always present in my mind and heart. There has never been a doubt in my mind that if I needed my older sister, she would drop everything in her life to come and rescue me from life's bullies. The thought has never crossed my mind that if I had something horrendously hard to share, I could not call my second sister and spill my guts with the reassurance that she would not only understand me, but also find a way to make me feel better. Not once, not a single time has my younger brother not returned a phone call. He might be busy, or tired, or out of communication range, but as soon as he knows that I am trying to get a hold of him, he always calls me back. In every moment that I share with my younger brother, the love, the caring, the indisputable sense of wanting to be close to each other comes through loud and clear like the horn of the approaching freight train...I just can't miss it.

There is a reason for this bond to be so strong, so prevalent in our minds and hearts. There is no doubt in my mind that we are who we are because of how our parents guided us in our youth. The punishment for having a fight between brothers and sisters was that we had to hug each other and tell each other we loved one another. "Los hermanos son para quererse!"..."Brothers (or sisters) are to love each other" were the famous words told by our mother at the end of any fight and just before she would yell "ahora abrázense!"..."now hug each other!" and then finally "Pídanse perdón!"... "Say that you are sorry to each other!" At which time we would reluctantly hug each other and say we were sorry with a very non reassuring tone. It might seem a bit hypocritical to hug one another when you really don't feel it in your heart, but the wisdom of our mother shined bright in this simple act. Looking back at it all, I now realize that what she was able to do when she made us hug and ask for forgiveness was clean the slate between each other. Instead of waiting until we were ready, which could of been in a few hours or days later, the fact that we had already said we were sorry allowed us to go back to being brothers and sisters almost instantly after the anger was over. Nobody was left waiting for the other to come first and apologize since both sides had already done so. Cool, huh?

I can tell that the simple three year gap between my younger and older son is probably even larger than mine with my twelve years younger brother. Even though the numbers are larger, the struggle for balance of power disappeared because of the bigger gap. My sons, just as me and my two older sisters when we were young, have always had to contend with the power differences that comes from a smaller age difference that still rules between. For example, all the oldest has to do is say that the TV is too loud, and the younger has to lower the volume regardless of his desire to be able to hear above any other noise in the room. I understand that this is the way things are in real life, so the lesson is there for the grabbing and maturing of them both. However, even with the momentary power struggles and simple put downs that come with the territory, my two sons have a very good connection between each other. The younger one always finds a way to gain access to the oldest heart with his simple jokes, funny demeanor, and beautiful personality. This is the key to their knucklehead kind of love, and I applaud them for always being there for each other too.

Life is too short. If my calculations are correct I passed the middle point of mine a few years back, opening my eyes what might be left for me to live in the short run. I am glad that even though we are not geographically close, that I live in an age where getting a hold of my brother and sisters is just a matter of picking up the phone and dialing ten short numbers. I am the luckiest man alive, really I am. I have the most loving and caring family any person could ever dream of. Thank you for never letting me down, I hope that I am worthy of your gifts of love that I treasure so much.

Dad