My brother turned to me and whispered, “I wonder how I would be different if he had been alive.”
We looked down in silence, our thoughts heavy. Memories flooding. My brother runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t remember a lot anymore,” he admits. I could only nod. Every year, memories fade. Sometimes, I don’t know what’s real anymore.
His death changed the course of our lives so drastically, it would be an understatement to say that we would have simply been different.
- my family moved to an entirely new country
- my brothers and I learned family secrets so deep and shocking it changed our very identities
- religion was redefined and faith lost
- i even changed my name
In a couple of years, I would have lived a larger part of my life without a father. I wish I knew how having a father defines someone. Maybe then, I could figure out who I could have been.
I can only imagine the life I would have had. My father would have made it to General, maybe gotten a couple of stars. He had been a Colonel when he’d died. I’m pretty sure my brothers and I would have gone all over the world scuba diving, rock climbing, and survival training. My father had a somewhat reckless spirit of adventure. I probably inherited a small measure of it, except for the part where he loved jumping out of planes. My brothers would have joined the military and the air force. I would have married some nice Chinese or mestizo boy from a nice family. Haha. My boyfriends would have been terrified of him. He used to wear a gun on his hip all the time. I would probably have amazing posture, too. My dad always sat, stood and walked with a ramrod spine. He used to always pull back my shoulders whenever he passed by me hunched over a book. We would still be black belts. My father was my first martial arts teacher. I think we would have still grown up well.
I looked over at my brother, “It doesn’t matter now.”
Because we are who we are now, and I think we are good people. At least I think I have awesome brothers, anyway.