People often ask me how my brother is and the truth is… I
have no idea.
It’s been years since I’ve seen or spoken to him. We do not
talk, text, or tweet. We do not visit each other or send cards on holidays. We
aren’t even Facebook friends. Mike does not exist in my world anymore than I in
his.
Growing up we were exceptionally close. Being that there is
only 17mths difference in our age meant we were one grade apart in school and
one size apart in clothing. I was always trying to steal his Duckhead shirts.
They were all the rage.
Once upon a time, we were inseparable, and my brother was my
best friend for many a year.
When Mike turned 18, he chose to enlist in the Coast Guard
and was stationed to San Pedro, California (a subdivision of Los Angeles). I
missed a week of high school to go on an epic road trip across the country with
him. For 3,000 miles we ate junk food from gas stations, slept at Super 8
Motels, and sang along with George Straight as we rode through Amarillo, Texas.
True story.
Our trip included several stops to some of our nation’s most
historical landmarks. He threatened to leave me at the bottom of the Grand
Canyon and I wanted to push him over the Hoover Dam. Siblings are like that.
After miles and miles of never-ending desert, we ended up in
Las Vegas. Despite both of us being underage, we managed to gamble away some of
Mike’s money. I lost five bucks at the slots inside the Pink Flamingo and he
won ten. Ten dollars looks like a lot of money when it all comes out in
nickels.
We stood in awe of
the Luxor Sphinx, wandered the Roman floors of Caesars Palace, and witnessed
Lance Burton perform magic at the Mirage. Las Vegas was unlike anything either
of us had ever seen and I began contemplating a career path in statistics.
Finally we made it to L.A., but there was no time for
sightseeing. He had to report for duty asap, and I had school waiting for me at
home. It was surreal to say goodbye to him back then, and now I won’t even say
hello.
I gave my brother an ultimatum. I explained that as long as
he is actively involved in our biological father’s life, then he is unwelcome
in mine. Maybe Mike’s belief in forgiveness supersedes my own, but he has his
own reasons for befriending our father and they are not for me to question or understand.
Was it wrong of me to make him choose? Probably. But I make
no apologies for it, nor will I waiver in my decision.
I received a call the other day and learned Mike had gotten
hurt. He was in Alaska on a commercial fishing boat when one of its large wire
cables snapped due to the frigid temperatures. Apparently the metal chord
missed his head but snagged his thumb, severing it completely from his hand.
It was a long and arduous process for the authorities to
retrieve him from the middle of the Bering Sea. He had to wait for hours on end
with a makeshift bandage as his only comfort.
Eventually, he was airlifted to Washington State where the doctors there
attempted to repair his mangled hand. But
his thumb was too damaged and they were unable to salvage it.
Last week Mike celebrated his 39th birthday. I
don’t know if he had cake and ice cream. I don’t know if he opened presents, or
if he was embarrassed by singing waiters. I would hope so.
And today our biological mother celebrates her birthday
(she’s 29 again). I know there is nothing in this world she wants more than for
Mike and I to be family again.
But I am stubborn and
steadfast in my reasoning.
However, as a present to her, I can send this message of
love out into the virtual world to let my brother know he is thought of
regardless of circumstances.
Happy Birthday Mom. For a moment, may you feel as though
your children are friends again. And
Happy Birthday to my Big Brother who will always get two thumbs up from me.
