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I knew I’d miss a lot of people when I left the country, but
I don’t think I expected that the person I’d miss the most would be my brother.
Tonny, or Tushar, or as everyone calls him Shari. I guess it makes sense; we’ve
always been close. For a while, a lot of that came from me being really
protective. But I haven't necessarily been able to relate to him all the time. By that I mean
we don’t always enjoy doing or talking about the same things. I know that that's natural
for a brother and sister, but beyond that, I've felt the compulsion to censor him,
because he is the least censored person I know, and I am the most censored
person I know and I project that onto him, which most definitely isn’t fair. It’s like I try to
mold him into a person that fits into the framework in which I relate to and understand everyone else in my life. I hate the way that makes me sound, because it's basically everything I stand against. But it’s
not like it works anyway. Shari will be Shari regardless of how I relate to
him, as long as I love him. Ultimately, my controlling tendencies seem to be
irrelevant. And I am so glad for that. It’s something I’m working on, just letting him be, not caring how he sounds or
appears, because I think that will annoy him less and will help me grow more. I tend
to feel guilty that I do that, and that I seem to require so much to be sure and content and he so little.
In the past I’ve thought about sharing all this, but I think at that time I was
looking to be reassured that I shouldn’t feel guilty. That never felt like the
right reason to talk about my brother, because there is so much more to him than all of that. So now, I'm putting all my cards on the table because that helps me see them better for myself. I think I’m at this point because I understand
the concept of guilt better. It seems like guilt has dictated so much of my life, but I
think I’m growing out of it. It almost feels childish now, like I’m using it as
a crutch to get by, using it as an excuse for holding back.
Which is stupid, because if Shari teaches you anything, it’s to not hold back. And if anyone knows how to be happy, it’s him. He tends to make a life simply a happy affair. Pizza on Wednesday? "Heck yeah!" Run into a teacher or friend at Walmart? (I will bet 3 scoops of gelato that the very next time he goes shopping he will run into at least 2 people who know him). "How are you?! It's good to see you! I love seeing them!" Wanna dump a box of brownie mix in a bowl and call ourselves bakers? "Hell yes. Let me get my apron." Want to clean the house? "Hell no. I love being lazy." Want to chase the doggies around, calling for them in little voices and drawing on their fur? "You are crazy, Sister."
Being around him has a way of lightening the air around you. I guess I’ve taken for granted how much it means to just be in his presence. To be downstairs and hear him shout weird things at the T.V. from upstairs, to have him bug me to do something fun or to get him some candy, to call him from his room to get me a blanket, to hear his sarcastic laugh when my dad says something cheesy, to watch him make a mockery of the choreography on Just Dance, to hear the way he greets my mom (she always gets the most enthusiastic welcome). And he actually wants to hang out with me, he is excited to see me. I’ve had this idea in my head that he’s not supposed to be that excited to see me, that siblings are supposed to be reserved with their feelings, and by default, scorn each other. But screw that shit. My brother is the coolest, greatest guy I know and I want the world to know that I think that. I mean, he bugs the crap out of me, he is stubborn as absolute hell. But my god, I love him.
