It all blurs together….sometime between high school and my first years in college I learned I had a half brother; my mom slipped it into conversation as if she had always known. All my life I longed for a sibling. After me, despite attempts and a miscarriage my mom was unable to bare more children.
After the divorce my PG “disowned” my BF, we never discussed him but he never told me of my half brother either. To be 20-ish and find out I have a brother who was only four years younger than me, it was like a dream come true, or so I thought.
I have the most amazing family. I have a dad who loves me and an entire family that welcomed me. Many cousins some of which, would later become my best friends. I have always had my maternal family: two wonderful grandparents that were more like a second set of parents, an aunt who was more like a sister and two uncles who would do anything to protect or provide for me. Then there was my mother. I wouldn’t trade her for the world and I knew with every fiber of my being that she was the best mother for me and a remarkable woman. That every decision she made she did so with a clear head, a heavy heart and only my best well being in mind. I had it all, right? Despite a life so full I had part of me missing.
By the time I learned of my brother I was old enough to make the decision to meet him. I remember that time vividly. We had spoke on the phone several times prior to meeting, so I knew of his upcoming football game. I saw this as the opportune time to meet him. Without his consent – I love surprises, my boyfriend (now my husband) and I jumped in the car and drove the two hours to get to him. I thought this way I could sit in the stands, watch him from afar and change my mind without any let downs. I didn’t though, we sat through his whole game as I anxiously awaited the end.
There he was coming out of the school with about five or six other guys, my boyfriend stood back as I walked forward. Without saying a word I tapped on his shoulder, he turned around and without a second thought he hugged me as if I had just flown in from across country, as if he knew me. He took me home with him, I met his mom, and we proceeded to spend three hours together that night.
Over the next several years we conversed on the telephone, shared emails, and visited on occasion. I made the huge decision to attend his high school graduation wondering who I would see or might run into. Turns out my BF came to my brother’s graduation, sadly when he saw me he left and didn’t venture to the after party. I felt bad for him, I felt like I ruined that time he at least could have had with our BF. At the after party we sat with my PG and later one of my paternal aunts who I did not remember or recognize. It is ironic how people act in our situation. My paternal aunt felt the need to fill me in on everything I missed without considering that maybe I didn’t miss it?
Shortly after, my brother joined the military and our conversations became fewer and further between. It was then the “weirdness” set in. Having a sister came so naturally to him. I wanted it to be for me to but it just never was. I think this feeling I could not shake came between my brother and me.
My mom longed for more children, my dad cared for me better than any dad I knew, and here I was longing for something they couldn’t give me and couldn’t have themselves.
A part of my life that didn’t come from the only thing I ever knew. A part of my life that I found, that they could never have. A part of my life they could never give me came from the one man that didn’t want me.
Guilt!
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