O brother, where art thou?

He's my brother. And I haven't heard from him in a long, long while. We used to be close; I would listen to his girl woes, and he would listen to my advice. Somewhere along the way, though, he didn't like who I'd chosen to become, and he cut himself out of my life.

For a long time this cut me to the bone; I was proud of him, and worried for him. I wanted all these good things for him --a relationship with a nice girl, a good job which fulfilled him creatively (he's a phenomenal artist) but most of all, I wished him peace. With himself, the world and our past.

Now... I just feel sad that he doesn't know his nieces. He met our oldest, who asks about him every so often, when she was only a year old, and has never met our youngest. She rarely asks about him... but I know she wonders about him. We've built them a life which is full; full enough to compensate for a missing piece which probably doesn't want to be found.

He's a very unique individual... maybe he's even felt pidgeon-holed by people around him... maybe he's struggled with the same fears I've struggled with... I don't like to be put into a box, and labeled neatly. The box may constrict the life right out of me or be too big to fill from one moment to the next - who needs that, right? I don't want to be defined. I just want to be.

But he stuffed me in a box many years ago... I don't know what was happening in his mind, but I think it went something like this: our mother was dead, he had unresolved feelings and thoughts about her, and he transferred them to me.

Eww. I get a little squicked just thinking it -- much less typing it out. But it's my version of what happened. He, no doubt, has his own. Neither is the real truth... but somewhere in the middle, I guess.

He's a non-entity in our lives... he's a persona non-grata (although he extracted himself) he's... he's a phantom. A living dream state... someone I remember... but with soft edges, and dim color -- like an old photograph from the 70's or something. He chose to give me up; not the other way around... and yet, I'm the one who feels the guilt. And the loss.

He's out here, somewhere, in blog-space. Hey, Bro. If you're ever in the dust-bowl, look us up. We've left a candle burning for you. There's a couple of little people here who'd really like to know you.