Being family is a strange thing. We are connected by family line, blood, and shared experiences, which seems should be enough to make us close but that’s not always the case. For some very sad reason it’s so much more complicated than that. Although we live only a handful of miles apart my brother and I rarely talk. We use to, and I’m not really sure when, where or how we drifted apart and I don’t care to relive, point fingers and place blame as to why we don’t. I no longer expect to be included in what’s going on in his world, no longer expect birthday wishes or congratulations when big events happen but disappointment and sadness still sets in when it doesn’t. In return, the invitations extended to him seem more like something that’s required rather than something that I want to do. Phone calls on his birthday and holidays are awkward but made, none-the-less.
We are two different people, two different philosophies and building two separate lives. That doesn’t mean that our paths can’t, don’t and shouldn’t cross. They, in fact should. We should get together, say hello and care for each other. I now have a daughter who needs to know ever she is part of a bigger family that extends beyond our walls. My soul is fed by the love of people who keep me close, not by those who have drifted and distanced themselves.
It saddens me to think this separation between my bother and me has brought angst to my mom. I know she think she needs to fix it. But really is there anything to fix? Do we need to be close? I love my bother and I know, although we are not close, he returns those feelings. I still feel like he’s my protective older brother and I like the sense of familiarity. I know he will be by my side if called and I will be by his. In the future, there will be times when we will need each other and I know our lack of daily or weekly communication will not stand in the way because after all, we are family.