The Bond of Siblings:
A Personal Story of Growing Up with My Brother
Growing up, my brother and I were poles apart. I was the wild and rebellious firstborn, constantly pushing the boundaries. He was a calm and obedient son, always following the rules. He was the apple of my mother’s eye, while I often argued with her. But despite our differences, we had a strong bond. My father made me responsible for my brother’s well-being from a young age, and I took him to school and other places. We also had contrasting academic performances. I loathed school and did not think much of my exams, while he loved learning and excelled in everything. I was his big brother, his guardian, his guide. I cleared the obstacles from his path so that he could shine in his way. Age gave me wisdom, and we respected each other for our strengths. He admired my social skills, and I praised him for his talents. He lent me money when he was only eight, which is unbelievable because I was much older and always broke. He was smart with his money from the start. Some of my brother’s friends were the younger siblings of my friends, and there were many.
I never tried to change him, nor did our parents. We accepted each other as we were.
We had a large age gap of nine years and lived in different countries for most of our lives. I left for Dubai when he was only thirteen before the internet made communication easier. I wrote him letters in English, not our native tongue, to help him improve his language skills.
When Sri Lanka was rocked by violence and turmoil in the 1980s, with the government killing young students who protested, I feared for my brother’s safety. When he managed to move to Canada, a country that values human rights, I was overjoyed for him.
The most beautiful thing that happened to us was becoming uncles to each other’s children. He has a son and a daughter who are now successful professionals. I have four children who adore him. We are connected by blood and love and proud of each other’s families.
I recently visited him in Canada for a week to celebrate his 60th birthday. It felt like we were back in our childhood home, hanging out where we grew up, just being ourselves. I marvel at how two siblings, so different in personality, could be so close in heart and mind.
We are still connected on a deep level like we are healing our inner children together. I'm curious what his future grandchildren will think of their granddad like mine do with me. We talk more frequently now. His children read my stories about our early life and learn more insights about their father through them. When I talk to my brother, I share what is happening. He is not judgemental, just like our father was not. He understood me even when I did weird or unconventional things. He did not take sides when I fought with my mother. Now, he listens to me and gives me honest feedback without being harsh. That is a priceless gift from a sibling.
Living on opposite sides of the world has brought us closer together. It makes me happy to say that he is not only my brother but also my dear friend. Sometimes, when I talk to him, I hear my father’s calm voice. We are still very different, but we also have a lot in common. We respect each other’s opinions and perspectives, even when we disagree. We want to learn from each other and find common ground. We are on the same team and the same wavelength in many things like politics, spirituality, and art.
I enjoy watching arty movies on streaming media. He has watched all the movies that I liked recently. It amazed me that we have the same taste in movies and how our tastes have converged despite our age gap and short lives growing up together.
He is one of the best gifts life has given me.
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