Dear Brother, My 100th post

Happy 100 Posts

I dedicate this post to my estranged brother.

Dear William,

As a child, I knew about you. I knew I had a brother somewhere who had a different mom. I knew he got to see my dad, and I didn't. I knew his name was William.

I would fantasize about the day I'd meet you. I would pretend you came over and played with me, and I would pretend we were best friends and I always looked out for you. I would ask my mom about you frequently, expecting that she would have some anecdote to share. I lived for the day I got my brother.

When our dad showed up when I was in 3rd grade, I thought that meant we could live together and be best friends. I also learned that we had a sister. She was 4 at the time. I would sit and imagine us being the older kids and looking out for our sister, and torturing her during games with our dad.

I always thought of you. Asked about you. When our dad went back out of my life, I grew up. I became a teenager and realized our relationship would never be perfect. But at 13 I called your mom. I had wanted to talk to dad for a long time. She gave me his number and told me they were divorcing. I started to grow closer to our father in the next few years. Fighting and yelling at him, while always wondering why he never permitted us to meet. I believe he was ashamed. How could he tell his son that he had a sister? How could he admit to leaving my mother alone with a baby? He was probably perfect in your eyes and he didn't want to destroy that. I understand this now.

When he died, all hopes and dreams crashed down around me. But I clung to the idea that at the funeral, I would meet you. I would be your sister. The grief would bring us together.

Your mother approached me at the funeral and told me that the night before they had finally told you about me. I can imagine you felt like your entire world had been destroyed. Dead father, older sister, and your life was shattered. Your mom told me to give you and our sister time. That if you ever wanted to meet me, she would let us know. I never heard a word.

When our Grandfather and I started to get close, my fantasies came back. If he accepted me, so would you. But you got mad. You ran from the room when I sat next to you the day of our Grandma's funeral. You looked so much like our cousin, I didn't even know that 6 foot tall boy was my little brother.

I have been told that you spent the next several years saying how I stole our grandpa, and that if you ever had the chance, you'd punch me in the face. I assumed this was just a teenage boy thing. But when our grandpa got sick and you didn't come around, I blamed myself for ruining the relationship. I believe he died knowing great pain. But also so much happiness because with that pain, he connected with is biological children and with me.

At his funeral, I had an entire speech to give you. I wanted so badly to connect with you, and I knew that was my last chance. But you never came.

My last memory of you is of you running out of a room.

Now I am having a baby. Your nephew. And all I can think of is my fantasy of the holidays. You and our sister sitting at a table, discussing our father and holding my child. This is a fantasy I will never let go of.

So, Dear William, I love you. I have loved you since I was a toddler and heard about you. You are my brother, and I want to be there for you. To grow as a person by knowing you. So if we ever meet again, please don't lash out in anger, but listen to what I have to say.

Stacey

***Thanks for reading my 100th post. Hopefully, someday, it will have a happy resolution.