It ain't over son

I wrote a letter to my brother, not too long ago and i realised that i took my dark moments for granted like no one's business. I shot out some very deep stuff about family and God to him. The irony lies in how easily i was all to push all of that to the background when it came to some very important parts of my life.

It's all there somehow, hanging like a big binch of grapes. Plump with the knowledge and wisdom that is mine for the taking, if only i'd reach out and pluck.

Maternal instincts can be a bitch when you're a sister. Your torn between the two personalities. The one my brother and i like and the one that's hard wired into me (and keeps popping up without a warning!). Try as i might, balancing the two has landed me on my bum a lot of times. And despite the sore episodes, i still continue to worry for him.

Tis quite natural, most tell me. And then they quizzically look at me and ask - where i'm going with this.

My answer to that would be no where to prove a point, if that's what you're aking; but to be able to just voice my thought process and see where it can take yours.

I admire the fact that i'm able to acknowledge that i get all frumped up about my kid brother (he's no kid nemore). Most would constantly either hide behind the glorified title and others would just justify the bloody deal with just a shrug and a walk-off.

Here's the thing, Aj and i shared a friendship as well. Y'see that's where it gets messed up. Siblings can be friends, but when you take that and try to make it into something that's only convinient to your pompous self, then the issue begins to germinate into a full scale 'BLAH'.

I do take responsibility only to the point that i tried to use my position as an elder sister to get some points straight across and it back fired. Badly. I was too wrapped up with my life, to be able to sit down and dissect the issues like we used to. The surface was scratched.

Another thing is the combination of him being my brother, a man and a friend. He was hurt, only this time, we couldn't make peace by visiting each other's rooms and slipping notes under the door, or barging anyway and settling the issue once and for all. He was miffed in his tetosternony way and i was well, already getting enough that! Geez!

He was miles away, i was miles away. All we had is a telephone. The miscommunication on one these contraptions is so collosal....i don't even want to go there.

anyway, so A, B, C - we're here now. Miles apart physically, and the bond languishingi in limbo. Cause the calls are expensive and the rest of family/friends (yeah, tell me about it!) needs to lend in their two bits of advice, before we can even start to have a conversation.

And so, until i meet him, i just don't see this here wound closing. We talk, we still joke, but we both know that we have some things to say to each other, and so what else we share is just = small talk.

Interestingly, i'm looking forward to it. Even if it has it's fair share of spark and fire. It will. It should.

In the letter, i list a few things i didn't want him to forget in life. Some of the things we had in focus, but we both lost sight of, after awhile. I can say safely, that i'm making my way back to grace, with those things again. Aj, well he's got some stuff blocking his view. And i know there's ample blood throbbing in the male bastions while i say this (yes, he knows what he's in and can deal with it) BUT...he isn't willing to acknowledge that it's a deep well he's free falling into.

I tried, i failed. I let my maternal back-up take over. Why? Don't f*&^ing ask me, why! I wish i knew. I don't.

This isn't over bro. You know it isn't.