My “big bother” is my only sibling. That’s been his nickname since childhood. I’m his “little blister.” The joke wore out years ago, but still surfaces from time to time.
When we pulled up to get him at the airport curb last night, I got out to open the trunk and switch seats. Before we said a word, my brother lifted his hat to show me his head, shaved clean. I lifted my hat, and we grinned and embraced. It was the perfect greeting.
“Did you shave your head for me?” “What? I wouldn’t do that for you.” But he did. Dinner, a long ride, and good conversation followed. It’s so good to have him home.
We grew up closer than most siblings, I think, and have always been pretty good friends. He moved away at 18 and life got busy. I’m so happy to say that recent years have seen a rekindling of our friendship, and this cancer journey has brought us even closer.
When he calls, I can tell he’s been thinking of me and praying for me. He often has something new to tell me or ask about–things that show he is concerned and has spoken with others or done some research about breast cancer and my situation. It means alot to me.
Our Christmas visit will be short, and I’ll have to share Brian with many people–namely our parents and my children. He’s a favorite around here. I look forward to chemo tomorrow, as he will drive me and it will be undivided time to catch up and connect.
Sadly, before I know it, we’ll be back at the airport curb, dropping him off. Because of technology, we will stay in touch. We’ll call and text, but it won’t be the same as seeing his bald head in front of mine.
He’s really no bother. But I don’t think I’ll tell him that.