My Little Brother

Last Saturday morning, I received a call from my little brother. Now Brian is not really that little anymore, he is 32 years old now. He is seven years younger than me and very close to my heart. It may not seem like he is when I tell you a bit about what went on and how often we talk, but he is still my little brother.

I was seven when he was born. My mother almost lost him during the pregnancy. He had a foot problem, had to where a brace straightening out his feet. He had a reaction to the sun or something, made him pretty sick. When he was in his swing as a little baby, now remember this was back in 1976 or 1977 the baby swings weren't as wonderful as they are now. I was eight years old and trying to get my little brother out of a baby swing. It was outside on the cement patio. His legs got caught and I let go of him to get his legs unstuck, and well he hit his head on the cement. Well, he survived the fall with no lasting damage, but that was not the only time I had hurt him without meaning too.

Brian was a cute blond little boy. He was a sweet and happy boy. Until he was 11 years old. Something had happened in our home and our family was torn apart. During a time when the little boy needed his father, our father was not available. Our father had to accept responsibility for what he had done. Brian had to grow up with a family that was not only broken, it was damaged and full of lies.

While I was not at fault, I was the reason the family had broken up and broken apart. It was a very scary time for me, I was all alone. I was left to fend for myself. I was 18, while not easy, it was not as bad for me as it was for a little boy who had no father at home, a mother devastated, older brother with his own family and in the marine corp. His sister had moved from Wisconsin to Alabama and he was left to be the little boy, the man of the family and the only one who wanted everyone back together again.

I loved that boy with all my heart. I lived with guilt and pain about what he had to go through. Even with me having had suffered the most dramatically, he suffered the most in every other way. He was a troubled teen, he made serious mistakes and he still had my love.

I asked him to do for me what my father lost his privilege to do. I had no choice but to ask the only male member of my family who deserved to be asked, that was Brian. It was to walk me down the aisle at my wedding and give me away.

My father was present, he and my mother lit my families candle for the unity candle. But he was not asked to escort me down the aisle. That was the privilege of my little brother. He was 14 years old when he walked me down the aisle. He was so handsome. My future husband had not a single problem with Brian giving me away. It seemed natural and right.

Brian moved on with his life and so did I. We have children both of us. I have two and Brian has three. One he has a difficult relationship with not because he didn't take his role as father seriously, but because the mother of his son has been hurt. Not necessarily by Brian either. Brian's heart is broken by this relationship. When I talked with him on Saturday I heard the hurt and the pain of not being able to see his son.

His second son has some developmental disabilities as a result of seizures after birth. He is special to Brian because of who he is, he is a perfect son. A son that will always need to be looked after with extra care. My heart broke when Brian shared with me that they (mom and dad) look forward to the day that they retire in an RV and travel around with their son. They want him to be as independent as he can, but they plan on caring for him for his whole life.

He has a beautiful little girl. She is lively and a promise to what the future holds for Brian. The promise of walking his daughter down the aisle on her wedding day. He will walk down that aisle with a look of pride and love for this little girl who grew up too quickly for his liking.

I am so proud of him for reasons I can't begin to explain. I am sitting here crying like a baby just because I have remembered so much of him. I love him as much as I possibly can. I have realized that I have loved him with the same unconditional love that I have for my own children. I love him.

I realize that God has that same love for me no matter what may happen in my life, God is there showing me unconditional love. I hope that Brian and his family always feel God's unconditional love, and you as well.