I once wrote a story about losing a sister: the pain, sadness, and torment eaking slowly onto the pages of the paper. With this story, I swore never again to allow myself to become as deeply involved with something as uncertain as love. As I wrote about my littlest sister, I also wrote about healing: healing through learning to give up my conviction not to love. I wrote about a little boy named Matthew: an angel of a brother who taught me to surrender completely to my heart and who continues to show me miracles every day. But, before Matthew, there was Alex, an often overlooked chapter in the story of my life.I was angry with Alex before I even met him. Not only was he the re-introduction to the life I wanted so much to forget, but he came home on a night that was supposed to be all about me. That night was the night that I was to introduce my first boyfriend to my parents. And, selfish as it may seem, I felt as if Alex ruined my night: Papa John’s instead of pot roast, freezer desserts instead of homemade pie, divided attention instead of complete focus on me. To top the night off, Alex was not even that cute. Eczema covering his cheeks, dirt brown eyes too big for his face, bald as can be, Alex could be considered downright homely.
When Mattie came along, Alex was overshadowed by Matt’s tiny helpless body and complex needs. However, over the course of the next year with Matt in the hospital and Mom and Dad along with him, Alex and I were forced together. We fought it to be sure, him never sleeping when he was supposed to and me having little patience for any shenanigans he tried to pull. I can not say exactly when it happened, me falling for Alex, but it inevitably did. From that time on, I was his “Sissy” and he was my “Akees-man”. I was his hero and to me, he could do no wrong. And, though denial is a powerful force I use often, I knew all along the day would come when another hero would take my place.
This hero was someone I could never be for Alex, something he needed that I could not provide: a big brother. The day I met Alex’s soon-to-be big brother, I knew I could never compete. A scrawny eight-year old kid with endless energy and innocent boundless love, he and Alex were the perfect fit. Even at two and a half years old, Alex knew he and this new older brother were meant to be and soon every conversation was filled with talk of him. “Sissy” was quickly fading into the background.
Before I knew it, two and a half years were gone and I was saying goodbye again. Hefting my jammie-clad “Akees-man” onto my hip, tears welled in my eyes with the full understanding of what was coming. We sat upstairs in his bedroom, the same bedroom I have written about many times before, the bedroom of infinite memories. The playful bears and rabbits on the wall border seemed to mock me in my agony of another farewell. And I sobbed… and Alex rolled a toy car up and down my arms.
These last minutes with Alex are the epitome of the part he played in my life. He first came and made me angry, taking away energy I might have used mourning. Then my complete frustration with him as we fought the love growing between us distracted me from the piece of my heart that was missing. Finally, he made me laugh, forgetting that I was supposed to be not loving him. Though for some time now and in the future, I will laugh with tears of loss, I know that the laughter will be the lasting emotion. Laughter of memories of an “Akees-man” learning to make noises with his mouth, swimming in the pool for the first time, eating watermelon bare naked, and even peeing on me when I got him out of the bathtub… twice. And, while Mattie will always be the reason I still love today, Alex, his smile with puffed out cheeks and his chocolate chip eyes, will always be the reason I laugh.
