The Importance of Brotherhood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A burst of free writing, my short views on brotherhood.

Submitted: January 12, 2015

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Submitted: January 12, 2015



Friendship seemed ever more important than brotherhood or even family ties. It sported the obvious perk. Friends stuck around not because of blood, but because they wanted to. They say blood runs thicker than water and I say only if it flows. And yet, even as an only child, brotherhood sparked a special passion in me. Ever since I was young I’ve wanted nothing more than a brother, maybe even two. One younger and one older. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that I wanted closer blood ties, but that I wanted what they gave me. Having an older brother gave me someone to be loyal to, someone to be taught by, someone to be protected by. Having a younger brother was just the inverse; someone who would follow you and trust you, someone you would teach, someone whom would let you channel the strength to protect them.

But unfortunately, I was not blessed with a sibling. Instead, I was bred with this loneliness and overbearing shelter I didn’t need from my parents. And sure, my childhood was a happy one, until the summer before I entered high school that it was shattered along with my sense of stability and safety. My father had passed away. Not passed, that sounds too, well, passive. He was killed by the ocean. And it was a simple vacation to San Destin Florida. How could that even happen. Everything I knew felt like a lie. Was this real, am I really fatherless? It doesn’t dawn on you like you think it will. You don’t cry and then get over it. You cry, become numb. Suppress it until you have your first play, first boyfriend, graduation, college. All these firsts and you’re supposed to have your full family for it. Staring out at a crowd with only one person come to see you. One parent. Not because they forgot, not because they were busy with work, but because they couldn’t be there. It was not under theirs, or anyone’s control, for that matter. They just, couldn’t. You watch as your friends and peers hug their loved ones after the show. Their multiple loved ones. And while that hug from my mother is meaningful, it was lonely.

I would give anything if I had a brother out in the crowd, waiting with my mom. She could use another family member too. I need to not be the only man of the house. I don’t have help around the house, I don’t have advice to give or be given, to be given strength or muster strength to give. It simply isn’t there.

It feels almost as if

I’m not really there.

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