He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

I don't know how other families operate. I know that each and everyone is so different....the dynamics, the energy, and even sometimes the love. When I got discharged, I was so happy to be home, out of that place. But home had become a strange place. And so I floundered, but then there was my brother; coaxing me out with the dogs, making me laugh with ridiculous statements, watching with me, dvd's borrowed from the library to stave off boredom, and keep me company through the long nights of insomnia. Cheering on and laughing at the dogs crazy antics. Dancing along the road in the dark of midnight. He's laughed with me, listened when I needed him to without questioning, and when the tears came unbidden, he's been there and comforted me. He has been my watchdog...and under his gentle gaze, I have felt safe.

We have always been close. Tough circumstances sometimes cause that. Together we have survived a childhood of pain, we have set out on different paths to rediscover joy, and find ourselves. We have spelled-off one another in caring for a dying mother. We have respected each other's wishes and kept secrets from our loved ones. He  was there to help me choose the home pregnancy test, and for the emotions and tears that followed. He very nearly contracted Hepatitis with me, in trying to ease the suffering of a dying man. He understood when I brought Sophie home, when there was no space for her. He housed me while I desperately searched for housing, and when none came available, he did his best to talk me out of living in my car. For the second time, he watched me descend into utter madness...and he maintained his wellbeing through all of that, while fielding off questions asked by my parents (at my request). He was there...when he felt helpless and hopeless and sad and frustrated and angry about the entire situation, he was there. Just being. Just watching. Just listening. And only sometimes, talking.

We have been through so much together...so much. There aren't really words to describe the bond we share...and actually? That makes me glad a little bit...not being able to define it. I know that in a months time, I will be getting in my car and driving 5000 kilometres away from him. And I know, that I will miss being able to pop down to his house to chat, I will miss his brotherly protective manner. But mostly? I will miss being able to protect him. I will miss being there when he really needs someone to talk to. When he needs someone to listen. And when he needs someone to talk to him. I will miss being there for him. So for now? I will drive him to work...cook meals with him...convince him to walk to the beach with the dogs and I. I will lend him one or the other of the dogs for a "sleepover" at his request. I will listen to his relationship woes, and offer advice only when asked. I will tell him when he is doing something stupid, or dangerous. I will force him to make the appointment at the health clinic, and I will go with him. And I will stay by his side, and I will support him, at that moment, and with whatever comes next. I'll be his watchdog. And I will be his safe place, for as long as he needs that. He's my brother

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