On my (step)brother

Some people save for the rainy day. This note is my savings. It’s not money, or passwords, or anything I can fall back on when I need assurances.  This is a memory. One so dear, that simply writing it off in my journal won’t do. This post is to help me to recall, and to make sure that this memory will not be lost on a piece of paper, part of a heap of books I have gathered and will undoubtedly continue gather.

Hopefully by making it public I will have a reminder if I happen to look around my blog archives. Or to ensure I have external reminders. This is about a family member anyway, so I anticipate being pissed off by my brother in the future. Then again, if he ever makes a blog he will probably rant about me pissing him off (just hopefully not in anger on his Facebook status).

This one is of Vico, my brother. Eight years old, which makes him 15 years my junior. Vico is my stepbrother. My mother passed more than a decade ago. His mother entered the picture, and after some time, Vico entered the picture.

Vico was born two years before I went to college. Needless to say, we did not spend time together. He grew only knowing that he has older siblings, without really knowing them. It works both ways, I did not really know him until I resettled back home.

Sisterly pride is not the only reason to say getting to know him has been a very heartwarming experience. I always thought he is more mature than his age, but I’m biased, so you can take this with a grain of salt.

Spending time with other people gives you thousands of pieces of experience. Some you forget, some should not be. This is the latter. In Vico, it is the actual recognition that my long passed mother is his mother too.

I was forbidden to ask him this directly, so I’ll just relay what I understand. A recent visit to a relative happens a few hours after a TV program shooting in my mother’s village. Excited me ran to the TV to confirm and told Vico. Later during the visit to the relatives he shared this news with everyone around. When informed that technically my mother is not his biological mother he simply stated, ‘but of course my sibling’s biological mother is also my mother.’

That is love isn’t it? The willingness to take what is not yours, and make it your own simply because it belongs to your loved one. And to have it given so unexpectedly and unquestionably is heartwarming. I accepted my stepmother, but there’s a part of it that feels like I’m merely adapting. With Vico, technicalities are unnecessary, an approach I sincerely hope I’m using.

I’ll just post this before I rethink this and feel stupid.


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