Brothers are invaluable

My brother is the opposite of my sister. We were only fourteen months apart, and from the day I arrived on the scene there was animosity. We have never had the same perspective on life. He was a carefree jokester; I was a serious worrywart. Most of my memories involve us not getting along. He teased, I cried.

Once again, in my perfect world I would have had the best big brother. He would have fought my battles, been a refuge from the storm, and had my best interests at heart. My brother had the opposite view. He would regularly make fun of my many inadequacies. When we were in high school, he liked to tell people that I was a lesbian (not popular at the time), or, better yet, that I had AIDS. He did his brotherly duty and made sure no guy in school would date me.

But despite our conflicts, my brother taught me much. He prepared me for the real world. I learned not to take myself so seriously. He knew how to keep me humble. We compromised to solve our differences and sometimes agreed to disagree. Somehow I always knew he loved me and that his tough exterior was only a facade to protect his tender heart.

He was much like my dad, in that people were naturally drawn to him. He is still charismatic and a carefree jokester, while I remain the serious worrywart. As we aged, we chose different paths and these have led us farther apart. But even now, he is often in my thoughts. The first time I had seen him in many years was for my dad’s funeral. He is a man now, but I see the little boy who shaped my life. His tough exterior is still a façade, and his impact on my life has had far-reaching effects. He is invaluable.

Sisters are a prize

I have not won much in my life. It’s very rare I will enter a contest because I don’t want to face the disappointment of losing. When I was about eight years old I mustered up the courage to enter a competition sponsored by a cereal company. It entailed writing a commercial. Mine involved cavemen, a time machine and a box of cereal. To my amazement I came in second place. I won money and my very own camera. I was overjoyed. That camera was a treasure. I took it everywhere and held it in the highest esteem.

Without my realization I had already won a prize that exceeded that long forgotten camera: It was my little sister. When I was six years old, my life changed forever. It was the day my sister was born. I can’t remember being very impressed with our first meeting. But my apathy soon turned to affection. This new addition to our family was just what we needed. Much like my youngest daughter, my sister was spirited and stubborn. She was tenacious! You must need these qualities to thrive as the baby in the family.

For the first time, I felt a bond that I would only feel again when my own children were born. It was a protective, maternal love. I worried about her, I tried to discipline her, I watched over her. At the same time she drove me crazy. I felt my parents let her get away with more than my brother and I could even think about.

Then we grew up. I moved out and our relationship changed. I would come to visit and we began enjoying spending time together. We had the same perspective, came from the same background and had inherited the same sense of humor. What more could you ask for in a friend? To this day, my sister is my closest ally. It’s hard to find a better companion than your own flesh and blood.

When I was pregnant with my third child, I hoped that it would be a girl. I wanted my daughter to have a sister. They too are six years apart, and my oldest has taken on the same motherly role. We let our youngest get away with more than my first two could even think about. They fight, they laugh, they cry … in short, they’re sisters. I hope that someday they realize how valuable they are to each other. Because a sister is a prize of the highest esteem.

You need them

Why was my first phone call after my dad died to my mom? Because I needed her. I needed her strength in order to break the news to my sister. No matter how old we are, we still need our parents. We know that even if our mates or significant others don’t believe in us, our mom and dad will. They have the ability to support us the way no other human can.

My dad would tell me that he only heard from my brother in rough times. If things were going smoothly in my brother’s life, my dad wasn’t needed, and my brother could depend on himself. Sometimes, though, we reach the point emotionally when we don’t have the strength to take care of ourselves. Maybe it’s a tragic event, a bad week or some unexpected news. We manage to hold it together emotionally for our children, our mate, our friends. Then our mom or dad walks into the room and we break down like a little baby.

No matter how badly your parents treat you, no matter how old you are, you need them. I am a married woman with an amazing husband and three children of my own, but I will tell you that without a doubt the hardest part of losing my dad was that I still needed him. When I was a teenager, it may have been for superficial things: to borrow his car, to help me fix mine, gas, food, money—all those things you need as an adolescent.

But as I grew older, I needed his support, his understanding, his strength. All those times when your parent is the only one who will do. So the next time you feel like an independent and capable grown-up, take the time to appreciate your parents when you don’t need them, because the day may come when you do.

When did you need your parent's the most? Please feel free to comment.

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