The one and only, Craigy

I remember when Craig and I use to stay up in the middle of the night and play legos until one of our parents would get up and notice the light peeking out from the bottom of our bedroom door and make us go to bed. I remember waking up on weekend mornings and building forts out of the couch cushions and blankets, then hiding out in the forts to watch tv and eat good ol' Cheerios until the parents woke up. I remember playing ping pong together for hours against the big shop door while Daddy worked on his car. I remember riding bikes together, playing hide-and-seek, running through the sprinklers, playing "school" and rollerskating on the front porch. I remember a stellar Miami Sound Machine concert we performed in the living room with a VCR recording and fake microphones. I remember his deep love for all things Ninja Turtle and that he loved puffy Cheetos with a passion. We use to eat cold hot dogs by peeling off the skin first. We mastered the art of a fine macaroni and cheese using Velveeta and just the right amount of milk. We played the Which End is Crispier® french fry game at Arctic Circle. We picked up soda cans at the dragstrip and turned them in for Slurpees at 7-11. We played Donkey Kong on Atari until we upgraded to Super Mario Bros. on Nintendo. I was always Mario, he was Luigi.

My brother is five years younger than me which worked out fine at first since I could boss him around, but the older I got the more and more of a hindrance the age gap became to our relationship. He drove me nuts. A lot! And by the time he was out of elementary school I was in my own little world of high school and boyfriends, and hardly a part of the family, let alone wanting anything to do with my pestery brother. I was out of the house by the time he was a teenager, married and moved across the country and had a life of my own. I wasn't there to watch his adolescence, but I know it wasn't pretty. Only over the last couple of years have we lived in the same state, but we've never been close again. Every single thing about our lives is different from the other's. I feel like he resents me and uses my parents. He feels like I only judge and condemn him.

What he doesn't know is that is not how I see him. He has been through a lot in his short life, albeit mostly self-inflicted, but a lot more than I could handle. He has had to face struggles and punishments I can't imagine. And yet, he still smiles. There have been times I've seen more strength and courage from him than anyone else. And I see hope in him. I see the opportunity for change and for good, even when he doesn't. He may be wounded, but I see the chance for healing.

I am sad that I haven't been a better sister to him. I'm disappointed that when I put forth a little effort to spend time with him I get frustrated too easily. I get discouraged and give up. I'm afraid that my disconnectedness is seen by him as a lack of love, instead of the stuff I need to work on in my own life. Mostly the memories I have of my brother are from when we were little, entertaining each other and playing together. Partially because I wasn't involved enough in his life past this stage, but partially because I think he lost who he was a long time ago and I don't have memories of who he has become.

But no matter what he's my only little brother, and I'm his only big sister. I love him so much and I would really miss him more than words could say if he were gone. I pray that will never happen.