Taking My Brother to Leavers’ Prom
A couple days ago I had the opportunity to accompany my brother to his school’s Leavers’ Prom. He’s nineteen now, and he has been going to this same school since he was three years old. But after this week, that’s all over. It’s done and dusted.
It is very strange that Ollie, my little brother, is growing up into a man. And this is despite him being disabled. Others who have younger siblings know this feeling — seeing their sister or brother age and progress, make transitions, and move on. He’s just my little brother.
Not a great deal will change, in a way. Ollie will still live at home, but now he’ll go to a different care-centre each day. I’ll still be able to come back home and see him. It will still be a joy, my greatest homecoming joy, to be reunited with him after months apart, having been unable to speak to one another on the phone.
Ollie had no idea he was going to his prom because he doesn’t have that kind of cognitive ability. Does that mean the event was pointless? No. Many of the young adults, the other leavers, could fully grasp the gravity of the occasion. The moment was not wasted on them.
But was it wasted on Ollie? Again, no. No, in a different way.
As Ollie, in his own unique way, becomes of adult age, it is important to mark the passage of time. That’s why my mum and I joined Ollie at his prom — to celebrate all of who Ollie is, and all of who he is to us.
Don’t get me wrong, Ollie is so much more than just who he is to us. His value vastly extends beyond any kind of utility, and further than any kind of benefit that he confers upon me, or my parents, or anyone else. He’s a wonderful young man in his own right, and I’m proud to know him.
But still, he has profoundly marked my life. In intangible, inexpressible, yet inescapable ways he has unwittingly exerted his influence over me, shaping me into the person that I am at this moment. And for that, I am immensely thankful.
Ollie, thank you for giving me an excuse to dress up on Wednesday night. But thank you for everything else. For it all. I have not the words to fittingly describe how much you mean to me.
You’re my little brother. You’re the man.
