My brother turned five last week.
This isn’t the first birthday of his that I’ve missed.
Due to a stint at boarding school and my aversion to spending breaks at home, I have missed more of my little brother’s life than I care to admit.
It normally doesn’t bother me. I console myself by remembering that even if I was home more often, due to an annoying set of circumstances, I still wouldn’t be able to see him as often as I would like. But that excuse isn’t working any more.
When I talked to my brother this past weekend, I was shocked at how much clearer he sounded. It seems like just yesterday that talking to him was a struggle. He would mumble and drool into the phone, and need constant prompting from my dad. Now all that he needs to hear is “It’s your sister,” and he’ll come running to the phone saying how much he loves and misses me.
It was at that moment that it sunk that he has been alive for half a decade, and I’ve only been around for a tiny fraction of that. But I am starting to realize that I don’t have to carry this burden alone. There are so many here that have younger siblings, or nieces and nephews that we desperately miss.
