I’ve made some mistakes in my life. All of us have. Its a natural part of growing up. You make bad decisions, hopefully learn something from them, and you move on.
But this week, I’ve been thinking a lot about a mistake I made over and over again. This Monday, my youngest brother is moving into the dorms at Lipscomb University. My little brother Brandon, 4 and a half years my junior, is going to be in college. And I can’t stop thinking about how awful I treated him.
I was just a bad big brother. I was selfish and a jerk. All he wanted to do when we were younger was to do what I was doing. And all I wanted was for him to leave me alone.
I cut him down constantly. Picked on him. Made it known that I would rather he not be hanging out with me. And that took its toll. We are not as close as we could have been.
I think that’s been changing over the past year, but its been tough. I have to work to get him to hang out with me now. But I’ve been trying. But the more I try, the more I wish I’d been a better big brother.
You see big brothers like this on tv shows. The ones that respect their younger sibilings even when they are annoying. Who the siblings turn to for advice whenever they have a problem. I wasn’t that big brother. And I’ll tell you what, sometimes I come close to hating myself for it.
I guess I’ve never really apologized to Brandon for not being the big brother I could have been. He’s not nearly as emotional as me, so it might be weird, but I want us to be as close as we can possibly be. I so value family now, as I’m maturing. I wish I could have some time back to fix things.