I used to think ‘what if I didn’t have a sister who always considered me a competitor in every way or a brother who act as if he’s the eldest child in the family not the youngest and try to preach me every now and then’; how wonderful would have been my life; undivided love of my parents just for me and just me and them in the family’.
My perceptions changed along with my attitude towards my younger siblings over the time and now I know, looking at my ‘only child in the family’ friends, how lonely they are. Having a sister or a brother is similar to having a protective wall around you, they are always there for you, not only mine but there are plenty of examples around for me to realize, how lucky a person can be if that person have sisters and brothers…you‘ll never be alone, even when your parents fail to be there for you, you can count on them.
Blood… it’s thicker than water…
09th POST
My Second Father
My father died, when I was five. It was hard on us all. With time the wounds healed. My brother, who is eight years older than me, began to watch over my mother and me.
Taking on many more responsibilities than was expected of him, I remember he made sure the trash was taken out, and the yard mowed. He did on his own, without being told to do so.
Because of my father’s death, my mother was forced to get a full time job. My brother took it upon himself, to get up early every morning. He would get me up for school, and make me breakfast. While I was eating he would lay out my clothes, make my bed, and gather my school books up.
Hand in hand we would walk to the bus stop. As we waited, he would play games my father used to play with me. He did his best to make me happy, and he succeeded every time.
When we arrived home from school, we were alone for about a half hour, until mom was home from work. He would sit me down with three cookies and a glass of milk. If I had home work then this was the time I would do it. My brother would start laundry, and do dishes if there was any. He would find something for supper, and have everything ready for mom, so she could start cooking.
Mom would greet us with a hug and kiss. This was our queue to go outside and have some fun. This was my brother’s time to be a kid.
It was a Saturday in June a couple years later. My mother and I were at the store. They had the Father’s day cards out. I stared at the rack of cards. My mom said “Honey, I know this is a hard time for you.” I said “No, mom that’s not it. Why don’t they have Brother’s day cards?”
She smiled and said, “You’re right, your brother has definitely been a father to you. Go ahead pick out a card.”
So I did, and on Father’s Day, my mother and I sat my brother down and gave him the card.
As he read it, I saw the tears forming in his eyes. I felt a lump in my throat, as he threw his arms around me and my mother. I heard the crackling in mom’s voice as she said, “Son, your father is proud of you, seeing that he raised a good man, and that you do your best to fill his shoes. We love you, and thank you.”
By Melissa Knapp
I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three.
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