When my brother and I were young, we would often spend much of the summer with my grandparents. During those hot, boring days back in the 1970’s and 1980’s, we would make the long trek to the local 7-Eleven to play Pac-Man and eat candy. It was on one of these sweaty trips that my brother, looking for batteries for our small radio, asked the clerk, “Where are your batteries?” One of our friends that had accompanied us certainly laughed about that statement, teasing my brother that it sounded as though he were asking the clerk if she were a robot with batteries in her back.
Silly, I know. For some reason, that day came back to me this morning and brought a smile to my face. The fact that the fun of that day doesn’t quite translate to others definitely proves a certain point that I encountered in an article so long ago—when you lose a sibling, your history is gone. There is no one to share those jokes and hysterical moments from your childhood, no one who can share that smile with you. While the loss of a parent makes you an adult, the death of a sibling robs you of someone who truly understands all of your stories.
My brother died in 1995, quite a long time ago. I still think of all those fun times that we had as kids, trying to beat a world’s record by swinging on a swingset or creating a movie with our Star Wars figures. Now, I hold those memories for both of us.
For those of you who still enjoy the company of your own siblings, please learn from this story. Love them while you can and build lots and lots of good memories with them. Share those laughs and knowing smiles with the understanding that one day, that pleasure may be gone.