Ode to My Brother

My Mom was an only child.  More than anything, she wanted

my brother and I to have each other.  Growing up, Tim and I would

fight, and my mother would say time and time again, "You are so lucky

to have each other."

Of course, when we were younger, we didn't believe it.

Then something happened.

We became friends.

The kind of friends that grow up together, share the same memories,

schools, parents.

The kind of friends  that support one another through

good and bad.  Best friends.

My brother was the person that I turned to when I was

getting divorced, when I was struggling in my faith,

when I was raped by my first boyfriend.  My brother was

the person I went to for everything.  He was my friend.

Life, jobs, and distance separated us, and yet through

everything we remained friends.  When Jon and I made

the decision to adopt siblings it was because of our relationship with

our own siblings.

I wanted children that would be able to grow up together like

my brother and I had.

When my Mom was diagnosed with cancer,

it was with my brother that I cried.  We sat in the waiting

room together.  We talked about what would happen to

Dad.  

Together, my brother and I planned what would be

my Mother's last holidays.  We shared memories

of times together.  We talked about what it would be like if and when she

was gone.

He held me as I cried.

Then, as only a brother can, he rolled his eyes, laughed at me,

and asked me if I was done.

My Mother encouraged my brother to become more involved

in the lives of my kids.  She told him how important he was to them.

Despite his natural inclination to remain distant, he tried.

He spent time with them, took them out, listened to them

when they talked to him.

On the day that my Mother died, it was my brother that was the 

first person to make me laugh.  He told me ridiculous stories

about being a white boy with red hair in a Muslim nation.

It felt good to laugh instead of cry.

When my Dad decided to remarry, it was my brother that

told me all of the good things about it.  He was with me during the wedding.

He brought tissues for me, because he knew that I would be crying.

Despite our many differences, one thing remains

true. My brother is one of my best friends.  I may not understand him,

but I will always support him.

My heart hurts for him as he seeks his way in this life.

I am proud to have him as a sibling. I am proud to have him remain a part

of my children's lives.  More than anything, I love him. I would do

anything for him.  I will forever be there for him.

He is my brother. My mother was right.  We are so lucky to

have each other.

I love you Tim. I'm proud to have you as my baby brother.