To my little brother who turns thirty years old on this day, I wish you the happiest of thirtieth birthdays. I send these vibes because I know you don't read this journal.
My brother is the youngest of we, three children. Growing up he was my antagonist as I was his. Don't know if it was because I was oldest and he was youngest; I was a girl and he was a boy; or because he was spoiled and I was....well, jealous. We had some really awful fights including one that involved a knife, another sitting on a chest pummeling the other, and yet another involving a chair. Whatever the reason, we didn't like each other most of the time.
As adults, we still have our strenuous moments with each other; but we have greater compassion for the other's lives and predicaments. And no matter what, my siblings are people I absolutely love and adore. Never will I deny that.
Shawn has been through quite a bit in his thirty years. He survived leukemia as a child and goes through daily pain from the after effects of the medications and treatments from it. He's not an angel when it comes to the substances. Admittedly, he has a substance abuse problem but has fought his way back from some of the harder stuff. He's had a divorce. Lost his best friend Ryan in a horribly tragic car accident which Shawn witnessed his last breath. And his closest friend (even tighter than the bonds between Ryan and him) died in February...talking about our father.
Yes, my brother has led a colorful life...alot of it his doing. He reminds me of my father in many ways, some good and some not friendly. He's my brother and I do love him. He is no innocent passerby of this world. He lives his life with gusto. No regrets. He knows life holds no guarantees. He knows fatality comes at the end of it. And he does not skulk away from it. He has a determination, if not a courage, that anyone would be jealous. Sometimes gives him a narcissistic way about himself, but as the annual birthday rolls around no one can say that he hasn't earned each year afforded him.
To my bro....I salute you on this day. If I were one who indulges in the mary-jew-wanna, I would raise my doobie in honor of your thirty years. I love you, butt head.