Thursday, January 26, 2012

growing up

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Growing up with two older brothers, one younger brother and two younger sisters, you would think I would have experienced relationships with them. This isn’t true with my family. See Shawn, my oldest brother at eighteen years of age, is five years older than me and had an interest in science (boring). Chad, next in line at seventeen, was always too busy with being Mr. Popular. People say we look exactly alike and I looked up to many aspects of him. Myself, I was thirteen and too old in my eyes for my younger siblings. It was a big family under one roof with no sense of relationship.


I spent most of my time playing sports, any I had time for, and expressing my artistic side through painting, drawing, and photography. My artistic ability was another thing that separated me from the rest of the family. Luckily, I loved playing sports and could play them all.


Basketball was one sport that Chad played as well. I had always tried to get him to shoot some hoops with me, but he never could fit me in around everything he was doing. I grew to be good at basketball and maybe even better than him. Basketball to Chad became second to the police cadets, a group that would pull him further away from the family. I remember thinking I would never get to play a game with him.


It was a great day. The sun was out with bright blue skies covering me. Things shouldn’t get better. It was a shock to me when Chad came out to shoot a couple rounds with me. Chad and I played all morning, competing back and forth each trying to prove to the other who was better. A couple rounds turned into five hours of play.


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We showed each other tricks and moves we had learned and gave each advice on becoming a better team captain. We had missed playing on the Middle School Cruisers team together by one year, one year! I had filled his spot as captain the year he moved to high school. I realized that even though we rarely spent time together I had learned so much from watching him play his life. It was the best time I had with any of my family.


About three that afternoon we stopped, so I could watch my younger brother, Mitch and little sister, Lisa. Chad wanted to go see a friend. I hated watching my younger brothers and sisters, but that day it was only for two hours. Mom came home; I filled her in on the whereabouts of everyone and around five that evening left for basketball camp.


Camp was four hours long, and Mom was always there to pick me up. That night Dave, my stepfather, was there to pick me up. I didn’t think anything about it until he told me Chad had run away. He filled me in on the conflicts my mom and Chad had been having, the way the cadets had convinced Chad to hide things from my mom, and that this didn’t mean Chad didn’t love me.


That night Chad had gone to a halfway house (A place for kids to discuss their problems) and had my real dad drive three hours from Indiana to come and pick him up. Dad had stopped coming to see my brothers and I five years before this, after he had my little sister, Kristen. I never knew why he stopped coming but maybe the drive was too long and he was too busy. I felt like they both had abandoned me, one thing I told myself I would never do to anyone. I wouldn’t see my dad or Chad for ten years.


My eyes opened that day. I realized family is too important to take for granted. That day we lost a family member, and at that cost the rest of us grew closer.





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