My relationship with my four brothers as their only sister informs my writing. My Music Man includes childhood memories (like brothers making me a dog food birthday cake and readying me to meet aliens from Mars who were going to eat me). My upcoming From First Breath to Last is a bit more philosophical as I examine family relationships in the midst of womanhood and aging. Both memoirs share stories and takeaways that relate to my way in this world, some of it formed by being a middle child and only daughter, and holding a close bond with our mom.

All of us are flavored by not just the trauma and challenges we’ve lived through, but also family and sibling relationships. It was as I wrote My Music Man when I more completely began to appreciate how my siblings and our different ages, gender and birth order impacted how we experienced our dad’s alcoholism, our parents’ divorce and remarriage, and our family moves. It too impacts how we are as adults and how we parent.

Each brother and I share a special relationship, each uniquely maturing over the years. Some of it doesn’t feel exactly mature such as the query from my oldest brother this week. He, of Medicare age, asked if I preferred the nickname Twin Dork or Dorkus. In my maturity I replied that he could choose either. I probably did roll my eyes.

Recently, I have wanted to shout out to the world how proud I am of my once baby brother. He was born when I was nearly four years old. I was promised, I am certain, that he would be a girl. One of my earliest childhood memories is my disappointment when Mom called from the hospital and I learned I had another brother. Yet once he came home I was excited to have a baby in the house, any new baby was fine. My dad assigned me to be lead diaper changer when mom was gone.

Within a few years this baby brother easily adapted to be my playmate for pretend school and house; taking on activities my other brothers would not. My next younger brother and I were close in later teen and adulthood, but with only 16 months between us were sometimes competitive in childhood. We vied for attention. When we argued we repeated our strategies: he teased me, I reacted and hit him, he ran to a safe distance before throwing something at me. I lost two toenails that were black and blue, thanks to items flung my way. Sports came around and as a small girl, I was determined to prove I was better than him, though we still found time to amicably explore outdoors and play together.

But my little baby brother was different in those earliest years. I taught him to read and tie shoes. I like to tell people I helped him become the sensitive man he is today. And with all of the challenges life has created, I couldn’t be more proud of who he is today. I’ve watched him help raise a sensitive son who I adore being with. A son who got to know his beloved grandmother later in her life, spending time with her regularly even as she stopped walked and progressed into dementia. I am grateful nearly beyond words at how dedicated this grown brother was to foster this grandson and grandmother relationship even during pandemic times and until her death. I’ll hope to always remember watching my now 12-year-old nephew push his grandma in her wheelchair at seven, and the generous hugs he gave even in her last few days.

One of my greatest life lessons has been to recognize life is full of ups and downs, hardships, joys and sometimes huge roadblocks. Families can be sources of loving understanding; they too can be causes of pain, grief and anger. Our family has experienced its own share of challenges and difficult dynamics: divorce, remarriage, illness, addiction and recovery, disagreements and much between. I too have learned that each of us owns our stories and the decisions to share or keep private their details, but that we can be advocates, supporters, confidants and celebrators. And thus, today I celebrate this special baby brother and the man he is today.

See also:
My Music Man
Siblings: When the going gets tough
Siblings: When the going gets tough part 2