Dear Brother

Little brother

Do you remember when you first came through the door at the old place on Sullivan Street? Do you remember the look I gave you and what happened next? Honestly, I hope you don’t because it’s something that I always regretted, but I never told you because — we’ll, we’re brothers and talking about our emotions is on the list of things we hate right below Rangers fans.

If you don’t remember, good — maybe it didn’t scar you like I always feared, but I’ll tell you anyway because what better place than now?

Mom told me I’d have a little brother by the end of the day. She was so excited, she spent the whole day running around like a crazy person. She had everything ready — a big cake with blue candles, presents galore, a newly painted room with all the cool baseball stuff we love and this big yellow balloon that had the words “Welcome Home” written in red lettering. Grandma was even there.

Anyway, I wasn’t excited. I was pissed.

I was used to being an only child and I loved the attention — I know, I know, shocking. But Mom kept telling me that being a big brother was a very important job and I should take it seriously. She told me you never had a big brother before.

None of this meant anything to me then.

So when you walked through the door with MY Mom by your side, I couldn’t help myself. “HE’S NOT MY BROTHER, HE DOESN’T EVEN LOOK LIKE US!” I screamed and grabbed the big yellow balloon and pushed it through the window. I watched it float away through my own selfish tears. All I could think about was myself.

I was a jerk. The day I met my best friend in the entire world, I treated him a way I wouldn’t treat my mortal enemy. There’s no excuse, of course. I just didn’t know anything.

I didn’t know that mom and dad’s decision to foster a child would mean I had a lifelong alibi. I didn’t know it would mean I’d have someone to explore the jungles of our backyard with. I didn’t know I’d have someone who would understand exactly what I was thinking, moments before I even thought it. I didn’t know I’d have someone to teach how to play sports, and I didn’t know I’d have someone to be angry at for being better at them than me. I didn’t know I’d have someone I could count on to get me out of trouble when it came to school, and I didn’t know I’d have someone who could get me into trouble when it came to girls.

And I didn’t know I’d be standing here today.

But goddamn I’m grateful.

They say you can’t choose your family, and I guess they are right in a lot of ways. But I want you to know, today and every other day, that I’d choose you if I could. You are my brother.

You are my brother.

I am proud of that sentence. It associates a guy like me with a guy like you. You, who are eternally giving. You, who will put up with all of my crap. You, who won’t put up with anyone giving me crap. You, who despite having every reason to be angry, never were. You, who taught me not to be.

You never let anyone else define you, little brother. You defined yourself and, in doing so, you helped me better define myself. I am a better person today because of you. Our family is better because of you.

And today our family grows bigger with a woman who is every part your equal.

So please join me and raise a glass in toast for my little brother and his wife.