Personals: Fly

May 2012 was a difficult time for me. Its last two weeks were particularly troublesome, mentally taxing, annoying, and emotionally wrecking. I was only so happy to see it gone. And with it, my brother who was to live with his family in the USA.

Me and my brother had an uneasy relationship, if it was at all, as one may say, a relationship expected of siblings. We were more like strangers who for some reason hate each other to hell. I am not keen on what he hates about me, but probably the fact that I breathe and that I criticize him and question his authority as often as I draw breath--and probably the fact that I have work and that I am knowledgeable and there was no escaping the fact that you cannot subdue an educated man's conviction. On my part, I hated my brother for being the biggest Bible-reading, Old Testament professing bigot that I knew. If my mother is religious, my brother thought it was best to read the Bible on a daily basis and shove it down your throat whenever he gets the chance. And he claps while you choke on it. That's to put it on a nutshell. Or maybe I am just stressing for a comic effect.

He's not very brave. We, as a family, are aware of that. He needed faith, the Bible, for a reason. Everything for him is scary or doomed to fail. He quit school early and didn't get back to finishing it amid my parents' repetitive--almost forceful--efforts. And he wasn't satisfied with just being unschooled, he thought it cool to have a son by the age of 20. And another by the age of 23. And another by 25. Another by 26. I've lost count actually. But, thank God, his children are delightful and brilliant little children capable of bringing and sharing happiness. Imagine now how he is without work, and with children, he needed something. Something to still make him a man he believes he is. He needed religion. Something to make sense of the poor decisions he has made, that it was all planned somewhat. That there was a God to blame for all of his mistakes. And the only way it can be right is if people agreed to him, to the Bible--the words of God that says everything is God's will--the perfect device for absolving yourself of responsibility.

He's a good son, nevertheless. He loved our mother. He was always there for our mother when she was sick. He cared for her, albeit with a few outbursts of temper. As for father, he always doubted if father has any love for him. The fool will probably never realize how much our father thinks of him, of how much the old man cares for his future, of how much father wants him to correct his ways and start moving. For our Dad was a mechanic, he believes everything can be fixed. Even our brother. But I am not. I quit on people. Dad wouldn't. And that's what my brother couldn't see. My father couldn't see that my brother thinks that his constant attempt to repair him is a sign of his lack of affection, but my brother couldn't see that that disapproval was the only way available to my father to express his love--even after all that he's done to himself, our father's desire for him to live decently for him and his children persists.

Amid all this, I find myself going home each night missing my brother for the past few days, worrying how he is doing in America. He was always one to ask me to turn on the wifi router as he doesn't know how to. I wonder if he's figured this out now on his own. Amid all our disagreements and the many things I dislike about him, at the end of the day, he's still family. And family is family. It's not the same household without him.

Secretly, I root for him, that he finds success and happiness out there. Although, I'm just happy he's gone. I can now play Wii all I want!