You see my youngest brother is technically my half brother. No one knows who the dad is and I think aside from my brother feeling blue about it, no one really cares. He had our uncles as great father figures in his life. I don't call him my half brother he is my brother, there is no half. I can't pick what half is my brother so all of him is my brother. I love him dearly.
As an adult I know I have learned three life truths that came about because of my brother.
- My mother is a gem (we had our differences but I love her to death) and did what other women in her position would never imagine doing. She had my brother. Rape happens. My baby brother is the product of rape. We all know it, it's not really discussed but it is known. No secrets in our family about it. My mother was strong enough and loving enough to keep her unborn baby and raise him with all the love in the world that she imparted on her other children. That right there is living proof that my mom is a gem. So many people that have been violated in life not only hide the memory of the traumatic event but also try to erase the fact that it happened. Some women don't report it, my mom did. Some women go home and clean up in an attempt to feel clean but destroy valuable evidence. Some women have an abortion if they become pregnant from an assault; my mom didn't do that. For that I admire her. I also thank her for having my awesome baby brother.
- Don't say something you don't mean. I must have been about 13 or so and was entering my psycho teen years (honestly I think I was just a hard kid to raise even before the teen years) when I was not having my brother's shit anymore. The little shit was a brat and got everything he wanted when he wanted it. And one night I had had it! I screamed the words I could never take back, "You're not even my real brother! I hate you!" I even smirked after I said it. I now still think about how hateful and mean it was of me to say that to a little kid. How immature and childlike for me to say that. What the hell was I thinking?! I was crying and angry and seething with rage. And no matter what happened after that I could never take those words back. I still feel so much guilt for saying that, to this day I am sorry I did.
- Grandma don't fuck around! With in seconds of saying that, my tiny stature, invalid grandmother was in my face in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it I had gotten the one and only back hand in my entire life from my grandmother. I was in utter shock! My grandma LOVED me, I was her favorite!!! She would defend me from spankings even when we both knew I fucked up. But this time I really fucked up. I mean she got out of her chair and gave me one that knocked me on my ass. She told me very sternly, "Don't you EVER say that again! He is your brother, whether you like it or not he is your brother." Damn... I had royally screwed up.
Thanks to Confessions of a Badboy in Japan and The Ghost Letters their blog posts about the past have inspired me to write about my past instead of just worrying about the future and bitching about the present. It gives me a chance to show my audience how I became the me I am today. Thanks you guys for being open and honest on your blogs. And thanks for taking the time to comment mine. :)