Day 254: Rediscovering Myself in the Least Likely Place, When I Talk to my Brother

Tonight I talked to my brother on the phone for two hours. This is notable for several reasons. One, we both hate the phone and rarely answer it. I prefer to text and he just doesn’t like to talk to people. The other reason this is significant is that unlike most families, we don’t talk very often. In fact, I have not spoken to him since I visited for two days at Christmas. It’s not that we don’t get along or don’t want to talk, we just don’t have all that much in common and we’re both kind of lazy when it comes to communication. I love my brother, we don’t fight or have disagreements over the way we live our lives; we just don’t feel the need to talk all the time. What happened tonight, however, is also notable because he reminded me that no matter how we transition from children to adulthood, some of us are deeply and permanently connected.

If you’ve read my past blogs, then you’ve likely read other similar messages. I hold onto old relationships, be they familial, friendship, or love and I believe that on some level we remain connected even without constant contact. Tommy is different. We are different. I don’t know that it would be possible to find someone else on Earth who I am more different from than my brother. We were raised from infancy in the same household and fairly similar conditions despite a two and a half year age difference. Even so, if I did not already know that we are both adopted and not blood related, I would believe it to be true. Besides not looking a thing alike, we’re just . . . well, different. So what is it? What is that bond that keeps us connected despite talking only once every one to two months, despite our Mother being dead, despite living in differed parts of the country?

I don’t think I could have answered this question before tonight. It’s not all that earth shattering really, but after talking for two hours about completely random and not emotionally sensitive topics I do feel our bond. Of all the people in the world, he is the only one who grew up in the same intimate world that I experienced. We got our first puppy together, we snuck out of our beds together and played when we should have been sleeping, we experienced our parent’s divorce together, and on and on. He was there from the day I came home and he is still there. True, we did experience some things a bit differently. He lived with my Mother long after I was gone and knew her in a different way probably because of it. I likely have a better relationship with our often-absent Father as an adult than he does. In these ways we lived a bit differently, but growing up, he was there on the same level, enduring, enjoying and just plain experiencing life the same way I was.

We will always have that bond and it won’t matter if we’re talking about the Discovery Channel or cats or our parents, he knows me in a way no one else on the planet ever has or ever will. This man who grew up beside me and in a complete opposite direction from me, is also nearly identical to me. We cried over having to put our dog to sleep, we suffered through our parents' divorce, we endured an awful summer babysitter, and we lost our Mother. As different as we are, there is a part within each of us that so completely understands the other that I don’t think it would be possible to be closer or more alike. I love him for simply existing in the world and for sharing his lollipop with me that one summer day on the backyard swing-set. Some people you can’t outgrow because they grow within you.