Me 'n my big brother

A walk out to sea with my husband and big brother
By the time I have any memories of my growing up family, my oldest brother had left home.  I still felt his presence because we always talked about him and my oldest sister who had also left home.  We wrote them lots of letters.  And we would wait for any news from them via airmail.  We lived a half a world away but I still had a sense of pride and immense admiration for both of them.  Their lives seemed to be more exotic than my own - mostly because we only heard from them in letter form - there were no phone calls across the world at that time.  When we'd get mail, we read the letters over and over again, so as to gain some small nugget of connectedness with this part of our family who lived so far away.

When I was eight, we returned to Canada.  Our family experienced a series of unfortunate events, which unfolded in quick succession.  During that time, my oldest brother was in university, pursuing a higher education.  So even though we were in the same general area, he still did not live with the rest of us.  I was so intrigued by him.  He would come home on the occasional weekend and the house would reverberate with his presence.  He had such great stories of university life, had such cool music (Carole King) on his 8 - track player in his car (which he owned),  and he would engage in debates with the rest of the family about all sorts of topics - most of which I had no knowledge and even if I did, I wasn't old enough to be an active participant, so I assumed the part of the listener.  Later he moved across the country and I remember the extreme anticipation of his arrival back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

It is safe to say that I have always looked up to my big brother.  I still do.  Even though I am a grown woman, and have a family of my own, there's a part of me who will always be his little sister  - looking for his stamp of approval.

It was so exciting to find out that he wanted to come and see me and my family over the March Break.  Even more that he didn't care what we did - that he was coming to 'hang out' with us.  We did a bit of sightseeing and a whole lot of hanging out.  He came with us to the soccer tournament, to a family birthday party, a bit of shopping,  a trip to the local hot springs and to church.  We got lots of talking in.  We ate.  We visited.  He gave us advice about how to turn The Pokeaway into a money-making machine.    I loved every minute of it.  As an added bonus, my Dad arrived a day or so later than my brother.  He was only here for a couple of nights, but I treasured every moment. 
Sightseeing as we travelled back to the soccer game after lunch

When it was time to bid farewell, I tried to hold back the tears until they boarded. [My efforts weren't very successful.] More than anything, I hate to say goodbye to people I love.  Especially when I don't know when I will see them again.  I watched the plane [and wiped my eyes] until it was airborne.    And as I'd done a hundred or more times before, tried not to think of the good bye, but of the next time I'd be saying hello.

Wishing I was going with them

Comments

Becky said…
Reunions - great until they become good-byes. I remember my older brother leaving for university, and the excitement of him coming home for holidays - but our family was never quite the same. I actually love this stage of life we currently reside in, change is slower amoung siblings, and the love and appreciation of each other is deeper. Thanks for writing about it. :)
April 8, 2012 at 11:08 PM
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