Even though I daydreamed of what it would be like to have a big sister instead of a big brother, my favorite books and tv shows had brother/sister relationships. “The Berenstein Bears” and “The Cosby Show” were the top two. I felt special like Sister Bear and Rudy Huxtable. I have a big brother and even though he beat me up, made me play the roles nobody wants to play like goalie, catcher, and ‘robber’, and incessantly framed me for his indiscretions with mom and dad, I would still catch him sticking up for me. See, it was only okay for him to treat me that way. As my big brother, he held the exclusive rights to all teasing, embarrassment, roughing up, and fear induction to the point of tears. Any treatment toward me of this nature that occurred outside of his puppet strings was not allowed and he made sure to defend his birthright….out of my sight of course…or so he thought.
Growing up I also saw that he would feign disinterest or even a sense of irritation or indignation at having to help me with a ‘pickle’ I’d gotten myself into, but I’d soon learn to recognize the sly joy he got from helping me out and in later years, he grew weary of the mask and settled into the helpful big brother role, albeit a sassy, know-it-all one.
During our awkward transition into adulthood, my brother started to open up to the idea of me reciprocating some of the advice giving. The summer before I went off to college he began to actually ask me for my advice...in a very sneaky way. This odd tradition began. On the nights where we were both home, he would yell at me to turn his TV and bedroom light off because he was too lazy to get out of bed. Under the veil of darkness my brother shared his fears and struggles and hurts. It was almost as if he couldn’t see me, I wasn’t really there. He wasn’t really telling his little sister about all the crap he had endured his first two years (and incidentally the only years) of college. I was just a necessary sounding board for the pain he had been keeping inside for too long. I was the only one he felt safe enough to share his fears. That summer I sat in the threshold between the hallway and my brother’s room many a night and remained silent. He cried. He laughed. He sat in silence processing. I’m so thankful he couldn’t see my face because although I never said a word, so often my face betrays my desire to remain neutral (something I have to work on if I am ever to be a therapist). He shared a HUGE secret I have kept to this day and that, in itself, is a huge victory for this self-professed Chatty Cathy. I’m so thankful for that summer and how it allowed our relationship to mature and afforded me the amazing opportunity to see my brother in a different light.
Today, I see him as a dedicated husband and father of two boys. I see how the two rascals I call my nephews disarm my brother’s tough exterior in an instant and how they alone can soften him in a way that makes me smile on the inside. I get to put so many pieces that comprise my brother together: smart-ass, son, brother, husband, father. Growing up, I definitely took some knocks from my big brother, but I wouldn’t trade him for a sister for anything. Truth is, in a lot of ways, I look up to him. But, don’t tell him that. ☺
"Danielson" and I. Circa 1981.
No comments:
Post a Comment