And while I am SUPER happy and excited for him, at the same time, every time I think about it, think about my baby brother getting married, well... I turn into a weepy mess. It's been hard on me I tell ya! And to be honest, I'm not even sure why. The only thing I can think of is it feels like one huge chapter in our lives are closing. Our childhood.
Of course, I know... I know... a whole NEW chapter is just beginning. And that's wonderful and I am SO happy for my brother, and for that chapter in his life to begin. I honestly couldn't have hand picked a more beautiful, smart, Godly woman as Elizabeth. Above all, I'm happy because he's happy. But a part of me can't help get teary-eyed thinking how my little partner in crime is about to have a new partner for life. That's just a weird feeling for me. I can't lie.
And of course, times like these also bring back SO many memories that its hard not to get teary-eyed. Good memories, bad memories, and everything in between. Nostalgia is such a mixed bag of happiness for the memories we shared, along with pangs of sadness for a past you can't ever get back. So many memories come rushing back at a time like this. Too many to list here. We did so much together. I wonder how many trees we climbed as kids? How many holes we dug in grandma's backyard? How many games of tag or hide-and-go seek did we play? We were buddies.
I don't know why, but the one memory that keeps coming back to me over the past few months is this one time when my brother was just a baby. My mom worked nights at Osco, and my dad watched us kids. Well, one night my brother was crying and crying... and I guess my dad (overwhelmed, or exhausted, or both) locked himself in his bedroom. I was just a little girl at the time. My brother was crying pretty hard. It was dark and it was late. And I didn't know what to do. I was scared. I remember banging on the door and crying for dad to open up. But to no answer. And so, I did the only think I knew to do. I grabbed my baby brother, held him in my arms, whispered "It's going to be okay" and rocked him in the big rocking chair in our little living room until he fell asleep. I was scared, but felt better holding him in my arms. Eventually we must have both fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember, my mom is coming home, and asking us, "What are you guys doing up?" and quickly tucking us in to bed.
I'm not sure why that memory keeps coming to mind these days. But it does. I always tried my best to look out for my baby brother.
To be his protector.
I know sometimes when mom and dad would fight (and it could often get pretty heated) mom would put me and my brother behind the washer and dryer so we'd be safe. It was our little hiding spot. My brother was always scared. I was too, but I couldn't let it show. I had to be the big girl, and comfort him...I'd put my arms around him, or hold his hand. I was just as scared as he was. But I had to look after him, so I had to be tough and strong for him.
And when mom and dad announced they were getting divorced, I remember my brother crying in the dark in the little bedroom we shared. I kept whispering to him that it was going to be okay. I remember wanting to cry, but instead I just kept telling my brother it would be okay. I had to be tough.
In fact, growing up I was always that way (had to be tough, couldn't show my emotions), that my brother now teases me about my fear of ET. You see, when I was little my parents decided to let me watch ET when I was about 5 years old. Well, that movie freaked the living daylights out of me. Even though I knew ET was nice... he was SO scary looking. The scene where he comes into Elliots ROOM was probably the scariest scene of them all, because it made me think how ET (or something even worse than ET) could come into MY room. Of course, I never wanted anyone to know I was scared. I had to be tough. I had to be strong. I could never show my emotions. So I did what I did best. I pretended I liked ET. Well, this plan kinda backfired, because my parents (believing I liked ET) bought me an entire arsenal of ET paraphnalia. I had glow in the dark ET pajamas (talk about being traumatized) that I had to wear EVERY night... and a life-size plastic ET piggy bank. And even an Atari game that played that creepy ET music. But I never let on that I was scared. I was a tough girl. I had to be strong. It wasn't until I was in high school I think that I finally admitted how petrified I was of that movie. And so I get teased to this day about it--especially by my brother. But you know, that was me... and still is me... I have to be strong, I have to be perfect, I can't let anyone down.
Well, along with feeling like I had to protect my baby brother... I have to say, I was just so dang proud of him. I went to every single one of his baseball games and cheered my little heart out for him... whether he caught a fly ball, or made a great hit, or even struck out... I was there cheering him all the way. "That's my brother out there!" I felt like shouting to the world. I was proud.
I remember, too, being SO proud to go watch my baby brother star in the lead role of "Hats for Sale" at his preschool production. MY baby brother not only had the lead role, but the only speaking role! Oh, I was SO proud!!! And when he refused to say a word for the play, I was still bursting with pride! While the teacher read his lines, we all cheered. "That's my brother!" I wanted to say to the world. Even if he didn't utter a word, he was MY brother. And I was proud.
Along with protecting my baby brother... I also did my fair share of tormenting him. I was a big sister after all. That kinda comes with the job. When he was little, my favorite trick was to mix a pot of mud and tell him it was his favorite dessert--chocolate pudding. Boy, he fell for it every time. Poor little guy!
I remember too, my mom, when she would get on to us for misbehaving, would often wave a wooden spoon in our direction, and say something to the effect of, "You better watch out... this spoon has your name written all over it." Well, in perfect big sister form one day, I decided to sneak the spoon and write none other than my brother's name on it. Well, not long after that I was in trouble, and again, mom waved that spoon and said the same thing: "This spoon has your name written all over it." To which I quickly replied, "No it doesn't. It has Matt's name written on it." She looked down, and sure enough... his name was neatly printed on the face of that spoon. Yep, I was a big sister. And I took that job seriously.
Being 3.5 years older, and 4 grades older, it wasn't long before I felt a LOT older than my brother. When he was in elementary, I was in middle. When he was in middle, I was in high school. When he was in high school I was living in California and not long after... MARRIED! Those are HUGE differences. There were so many times growing up that I wanted to go to him and tell him about my rotten day, about the kids picking on me, about having to sit in the bathroom stalls throughout lunch to just avoid the constant bullying. But I don't think I ever did. I always had to be the tough one. I never wanted people to know I was scared or sad or needed help. And yet, he helped in more ways than I ever could have asked. He was always there for me. Coming home from a rotten day at school... he was there. A rousing game of Mario Cart or Super Mario Bros and life would feel SO much better. We might not have shared our feelings or said "I love you" as often as we did when we were little... but I think we both knew we still felt it. I think we knew we would be little partners in crime for life, even though growing up meant we were at different stages in our lives.
And I guess that's what makes this new stage even harder, because it means I no longer have that job. My partner in crime has a new partner for life. She will be the one to rock him when he scared and alone, and hold his hand when he's needs comforting. And so it just feel so weird to me. It makes me long to go back to that night when he was just a baby, and rock him to sleep in my arms. Just one more time. But I can't. And life moves on...
It also makes me sad, because I look at my own babies. I think of all the nights I've rocked them to sleep. Countless nights. And how so soon, they, too, will be all grown. And one day... one day... oh, I can't even say it. I know that sounds silly. Of course, I want my children to be grown and happy and to find someone who they love and who loves them right back. Someone to share their life with. Just as I want that for my brother. Of course I want those things. But it still pains the heart a little. A lot actually.
And so with that... as I pack my bags and prepare for a WONDERFUL celebration of the love shared between my amazing big, little brother and the love of his life and my soon to be sister, Elizabeth... I prepare myself also for the start of a new journey and a new chapter in our lives. Childhood might be over, and I'm coming to grips with that. But nothing will change they way I feel. I'm still the big sister, SO proud of her little brother. As I sit in the audience and watch him marry the love of his life, I'm sure memories of sitting in the audience at his preschool performance will come rushing back. "Hats for Sale!" I will be screaming on the inside. My baby brother is all grown up. And while he certainly does have a new partner for life... I want him to know that his little partner in crime will always have his back, and be here for him always. And she will always look back fondly at a childhood full of joy and laughter and happiness! And is looking forward to what this new chapter holds.
