It’s hard to top this post, but I’ll try…
My Brother: The Shit Disturber
My brother; yes, the one who is way bigger and stronger than me, the one who has kick-boxed professionally on National TV, the one who was a hard-ass bouncer in the bar that is most prominently featured on COPS, my little brother turns 26 today.
When my parents split up, I lost my brother in a way that killed me. Even though he used to bug the shit out of me, even though he was the biggest pain in the ass, I loved him.
I remember seeing him in the hospital when he was born, I remember having to be extra quiet when he was napping in his crib. I remember getting back at him in my own little ways for all the times that I got in trouble for him. I remember helping him after school to rid him of his speech impediment (r’s and l’s). I remember all of his aches and pains, I remember his scratches and cuts. I remember the toys and tv shows he liked. I remember the way he used to hum while he chewed his food. I remember the way he used to make that little chipmunk sound when he smirked his mouth to the side as if to say “that’s the way it goes”. I remember seeing him play hockey and thinking that he was the one who got our Mum’s talent on skates. I remember the different hairstyles he went through.
Unfortunatley, my memories of my brother got fewer and fewer after he turned 9.5, when we were divided. But I knew him in a way that no one else did. I was the one he came to when he was scared; when he had a bad dream or had done something wrong. I wouldn’t trade the memories I DO have of him for anything in the world.
Happy Birthday, Derwood. I wish for you to know how much your big sister loves you, how much she misses you at times, how much she still wishes that you were 6.5 again so she could go back in time with you and NOT stick that tic-tac up your nose.