One of my close friends once said, “Having a brother is equal to a lifelong comparison plus a daily contest of beauty and wits.” At first, I agreed with her. But after one painful event, I realized that as long as you had a brother like mine, the equation would result to a syntax error.
Just like other brother out there, my brother and I became a subject of comparison since we were young. My brother was wide-eyed and full of curiosity, while I was a shy and silent kid who had no room for adventure. Unlike me, my brother was very friendly. He had so many playmates while I was stuck at home with my toys and left playing all by myself. Our neighbors liked him more than me for he had the sweetest smiles and cutest giggles that could melt anyone’s heart. My world was only confined inside the house, and hers was vaster and fun.
The disheartening opinions of other people caused me to envy my brother. Driven by my childish insecurities, I became mean towards him. I pulled his hair, kicked him, and destroyed his toys. He would silently cry each time, but never did he fight back. He understood me with his utmost patience, knowing that as my elder brother, she had to guide me. He was even the one who encouraged me to play outside with other children of my age. Despite my hostility, he taught me how to ride a bike so that I could go out, enjoy the afternoon breeze in the park, roam around the village, and widen my world.
I was really sick of being compared with her. To get noticed, I strived to excel in academics, and proved to others that I was better than him. I let go of my toys and spent most of my time with books so that I could maintain a spot in the roll of honors. Just like those evil stepbrother in fairytales, I felt happy every time I got grades higher than him. But something was strange about him – the more I bragged about my grades, the happier he was. I wanted him to get envious of me, but he would just give his sincerest smile and tell me how proud he was of my achievements in school.
We grew up together as young man, and so were my extreme insecurities. He grew into a ravishing and athletic man, and I into a tall and nerd one. His muscular figure was so attractive that many girls knelt before her and begged to be her girlfriend. He had so many chocolates and flowers to give during Valentine’s while I had to buy my own Chocnut to celebrate the day. Not that I also wanted to court someone, but seeing those teddy bears from his girl suitors made me feel unappreciated.
I hated him for being this and that. During those times, I wished to be like him, to be him. But whenever my insecurities were starting to drown and overwhelm me, He was always there to cheer me up and share some of his chocolates. He would say that, like him, I could also have girl suitors if only I would fix my hair and smile more. He also told me that I was handsome and I should not scare my admirers away if there were any. By then, I started to enjoy his company. I found an extension of my personality in him.
But fate was really playful. Time had flown so fast and all of a sudden, unexplained bruises appeared on his very pale skin, and he was diagnosed with acute leukemia. He had to stay in the hospital for months, and there, I witnessed how he endured all the painful treatments and chemo-therapies, and how he managed to keep an undying spirit of positivity despite the baldness of his head. Each time I would visit him there, he would always welcome me with his signature ear-to-ear smile, giving me the assurance that I should not worry about him. She would tell me some stories about the beautiful nurses, his ridiculous-faced physician, and the deadly needles that were jabbed into his arms. It was ironic and sad to see that his world, the vast world I used to covet, was then narrowed and made distressing by his fatal disease.
We did everything to save him, but there were certain things we could not just control – God’s will, perhaps. His condition worsened from day to day until one Monday morning, he experienced multiple organ failure, bringing him to an eternal rest. He was only twenty then, and seeing his youthful body lying lifelessly in the coffin filled my heart with unbearable melancholy, regrets and guilt.
I lost him. I lost a confidante whom I once considered a rival. I did not know if it was his final way of ending, or making me win, my delusional competitions – all I knew was I lost her and I was willing to give up anything to win his life back. The colorful and wide world she built for me shattered into pieces, and now, I am still in the process of rebuilding it.
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So if you are calling your brother, or even your sister, an enemy, you better think twice. If he is contending some sort of battles with you, let her win and give her the crown. It is never really about who is younger and who is older – it is about giving up your pride when the other one cannot. How I wish I have learned these lessons before I lost him.
PS. 4th death anniversary nya tomorrow .. nakaka-miss pero ganun talagaii
credits to the owner | sorry for your lost po..