reunited
(and it feels so good)


there were all sorts of profound lessons to be learned from having brian "home" for the holidays this past christmas. some of them were simple, like remembering that it was fun to talk to him and be in his company. some of them go way, way deeper.

it's not that i wondered if i would ever have a chance to see him again or regain a relationship that we lost long ago, but, in actuality, i wondered if i would ever have a chance to see him again or regain a relationship that we lost long ago. we didn't hit the way back machine and chart the last time i had a conversation with him where he was 100 percent sober, but it had to have been a very long time since. time spent in and out of rehab. time spent in and out of my mother's house. time spent in and out of my house. time spent in and out of my aunt's house. time spent fathering a child that he misses very much now. and finally, time spent moving away to south florida, moving away and having the light bulb come on. i could wax philosophical on all the reasons that i think he came out of the darkness of his drug and alcohol induced past when he did, but those reasons don't really make any difference going forward. what makes a difference is that the past seems to lie in the past now. and that's a huge step. one that, in some regards, i haven't been able to take myself.

brian and i share and shared a past that could be described as, how do you say, unpleasant. for the longest time, we allowed that past to dictate and define our actions even if we didn't want it to. we made decisions that took our lives in radically different directions. we made decisions that, for one reason or another, took us farther apart from one another than i ever thought possible. for a long, long time, the only constant that either of us had in our lives was each other. i realized how important that was way too late.

most things in life subscribe to the "out of sight, out of mind" notion. it's just easier that way. if something that you once held dear takes a backseat to the newest girl, the newest car, the newest gaming station, the newest next best anything, something that you thought could not be improved upon ends up on the trash heap of faded memories. i am thankful that my brother was different. i am thankful that no matter how mad i was at him, that no matter how much i didn't understand his situation, i didn't stop caring. sometimes, it hurt too much to think about him every day. but something inside me wouldn't let him stray too far from my normal routine. sometimes i would ignore his phone calls. sometimes i wouldn't return his messages (some of you just grinned and said to yourself, "at least i am not the only one."). at those times, i didn't know what to say. "i love you" seemed too cheesy. too easy. too deflective of everything that i wanted to spit out but knew that i didn't have time to mention.

when brian came home for the holidays, i didn't have time to say everything that i wanted. he had other things that he wanted and needed to do while he was here. i still had to work. but my hope prior to his coming was fulfilled, and that's all that matters. i wanted, more than anything, to want to see him again soon. and i do.

i wish he was in town now. his comment on my last post makes me want that even more. i like to fancy myself pretty tough and rough around the edges, but brian is the o'kelley that has actually been around the block. he's the one that i wish i could unleash on the guys that have put fear and uneasiness into my daily drive to work. as wonderful as sarah and my friends have been over the last week, brian has crossed my mind more than once. i've wanted him in the parking lot at night, not my boss or the cops, watching my back. i think i'd feel more safe with him here. as messed up as my head is right now, i think he would be able to help me figure some things out.

it's selfish of me to want him back now that he's made a better life for himself seventeen hours (by greyhound bus) away. but then again, i can be a pretty selfish guy. i still hope for the best for him. but more than ever, i hope that our visits come at a more frequent clip than once every two years.

it's not often that my wishes come true. it's not often that i wish. but i am glad to feel like i have my brother back. the one that i always knew was still in there. the one that i grew up with. fought with. played with. cried with. the one that threw a throwing star at me once because i always knew how to push his buttons.

love you too, bro.