Ode to my brother . . .

I am the only child to my mom and biological father. My father left us when I was 3 years old. He was married shortly thereafter and began a new family. He and his wife had Zachary, my half-brother. I did not have a relationship with him, nor my father while growing up, and came to learn about 5 years ago that my father passed away. Through the Social Security Death Index my mom was able to see that he died in a small town in Iowa. Ironically, the same small town he was born in. A town that is a few thousand corn fields away from my grandparents own farm. I was not able to stop thinking about how and why he died at such a young age. Perhaps it was selfish of me wanting to know if I had some horrible future of early heart disease, cancer or the like... but I was able to convince my grandparents to drive to the county where he died and get me a requisition for his death certificate.

I filled it out right away but then went back and forth on whether I really want to delve into this after all these years. After addressing the envelope several times and wasting a few stamps I put it in the mail box and then waited anxiously for the certificate to arrive. When it did come, it was much like when you receive your acceptance (or denial) letter from your college of choice. I was so scared to open it. What does this mean? Is he really dead? Will I never get a chance to know him? Will I ever see my brother again? I can't open it. I HAVE to open it. I convinced myself it was for my kids sake. So THEY would know. Like they even know who he is. I was holding it up to the light, trying to see through the envelope and thick layers of the paper inside. Why so much emotion with this? It's not like I knew the guy, right?

Finally I opened it. Boy, talk about your shockers. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't what I saw. The first thing I noticed was his age. Too young to die. Too young. 56?? My eyes scrolled briefly past the part that said he was cremated and on to his cause of death. Acute Non-Lymphocytic Leukemia. Cancer. Just what I was afraid of. But before I could put it down I couldn't help but see that he was once again....divorced. Oh no. That meant I would never find my brother. I put the death certificate in my fire proof safe and that was that. I didn't cry. But I felt sad. Not exactly sure why, though.

Having a relationship with my brother was a dream I have had since I was 14 years old and found out about him. That dream, I thought was crushed when my father cut me off for the 2nd time in my life at age 16. However, by some spirit or force of the universe, Zac found me and we are now working on establishing that relationship that only siblings can have.

It's weird because I don't know him. He was 9 when I met him, and I only spent a couple of weeks with him one summer. I was 14. Now, he is a man. He is 26, I am 31. So many things have changed, so much time has passed. You would think it would be uncomfortable. But it's not. I find myself thinking about him every day and missing him more and more. It's like an actual heart ache. I can't wait to meet him again, and I can't wait to hug him.

This was us, the only picture I have of the 2 of us...

I used to be really angry at my father. I used to feel abandoned. I wanted to be able to tell him one day how successful my life turned out, no thanks to him. But now all I want is to tell him thanks. Because if one good thing came from him, it was Zac. He gave me a brother. Strange as it may sound, I love you baby brother!