The Question You've Always Wanted Me to Answer...

Why Do I Want an Older Brother?

Those of you who have been following my blog for a while know what my number one wish is.

Yes, you groaned correctly: an older brother.

*sigh* The subject seems old, tired, and dusty to me. It's such a part of me and the way I think, that every time I have to think about it, it feels overdone. Wanting an older brother is like breathing to me. I want one, and that desire sits at the back on my mind 24/7.

But...why? We all know how much I want one, just judging by the posts that talk about it:
My Biggest Wish
Sunny Sundays and Protocol
Questioning God
Challenge and Update
Top Five
Lost: One Beautiful, Red LG Shine Cell Phone
Jace Wayland
Observing the Male Specimen
Another Amazing Day!
Post 200: The Mission Trip and Him
*mutters and moans*
Change
Mary and Martha: God's Custom-Made Love
Character Day: Taking Sibling Rivalry To a Whole 'Nother Level

That is 14 posts, folks. All have at least SOMETHING to do with my desire for an older brother.

But the question remains:

WHYYYYYY?????????

I was a pretty happy little kid, but from the time I could talk (literally), I've asked for only one thing consistently: an older brother.

When I was two, my parents calmly explained to me that that was impossible. God had given me to them first, not a boy.

Even at that young age I was nobody's idiot. I remember staring back at my parents, wondering if they were really that slow.

"ADOPT."

I mean, really? This is not rocket science, folks. Of course, my parents told me that adopting wasn't possible at the time. We weren't rich by any stretch of the imagination, and they didn't feel like God was calling them to do that right then.

So, whatever. I decided to take matters into my own hands. If I couldn't have a real brother, I would have to fake it. All my imaginary games began to incorporate a "big brother". Then I started claiming these two teenaged twin boys at my old church: Jeremy and Jason. They were fifteen years older than me, but I figured they'd do. I liked them, so I started telling everyone that they were my brothers. I guess people thought a sweet little two year old wouldn't lie, so they started believing me. That left my parents in an interesting position when word got around to them about their extra kids...

When I was five, we left our old church and started the awesome one I go to now. Wh--

Oh, DANG IT. I just let the cat out of the bag. *sigh* Yes, my Daddy's a pastor. Don't judge me XD

When we left our old church, I was brother-less for a while, but not for too long. I was going to find a brother, that was for sure. Every older guy that I met I mentally auditioned. I met a few, even asked one if he'd be my older brother when I was about seven, but that didn't go over well.

Even though I knew it was useless, I prayed for an older brother all the time. It was what I wished for on every single birthday cake and every time I saw a first star, I wished for an older brother. I was just so lonely without one. Nothing was good without one. It seemed like the world's largest injustice.

When I was eight, Gabrielle and her older brother started coming to our church. They were nice, and after a while, I became best friends with Gabrielle. She was into the same pretend-games I was, and we had all the same weird interests. One of the coolest parts was that her brother (let's call him Him) would play with us!

It took me a whole year before I started realizing that He was the brother I'd always wanted. I mean, I was still begging my parents to adopt. Of course, by this time, my dad insisted that he did not want to bring a strange teen-aged boy into the house with me and my sister.

So, GREAT, Dad, you've MISSED THE WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY. You could have adopted YEARS ago, but you waited until I was too old???

Anyway, "He" was absolutely everything I'd ever thought of, plus so much more. He treated me just like a sister, I treated him like a brother. He would play with me, talk to me, protect me, make me laugh, explain things to me. I loved him and trusted him more than any other guy in the world (Daddy excluded).

He played imaginary games with us every night after Wednesday night Bible study. Me, Lizzy, Gabrielle, Matt ("little brother") and Katie ("little sister") would all run outside to the swing-set in the summertime and wait for him to come play with us. Our games were not your normal ones; no tag or hide-'n'-go-seek. We played one of three things: Orphans, Slaves or Orphan Slaves. Chiefly the latter.

In the wintertime when it was too dark to play outside after Bible study, we'd play a different version in the preschool Sunday school room.

I have tons of memories that include Him, most of them good, although there are a few times I wish hadn't happen, haha. Mainly the time he rolled over on my leg while we were on the trampoline when I refused to get off.

Still, he was the most amazing "brother" in the world. I was finally "happy" for the first time in eight years. God had finally heard me! I had a brother! I was so happy I'd lie in bed at night and just smile. God was awesome, everything was good.

I didn't appreciate "Him" as much as I should have. I figured that was fine. I mean, he wasn't going anywhere. He'd always be around. I figured I had my whole life to love him and live around him. Who cared about carpe diem? I would always have cras (tomorrow)!

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

The February I turned thirteen, He and Gabrielle stopped coming to our church.
They stopped coming to Bible study.
I stopped seeing Him altogether.

That was hard. That was...really, really hard.

You know the phrase "You never know what you've got until it's gone"? Well, I understand that so much more now.

It felt like God had dangled joy in front of me, gotten me accustomed to it, and then snatched it back. Why would God give my an older brother and then just take him away again?? Wasn't it enough not to have one in the first place??

I used to cry all the time, every night. My journals were filling up with Him Memories, trying to salvage what I could. I didn't want to talk about Him anymore. If anyone said his name, I would leave the conversation. I didn't want to forget about him, but remembering him made me want to cry. I was mad at Him, I was mad at God, I was made at His and Gabrielle's mom for taking Him and Gabrielle away. (I could always see Gabby at parties and have her over, but I'd never have a reason to see Him ever again.)

I know this is going to sound really melodramatic, but it felt like there was a Hole in My Heart.

So, there's a brief history of my brother problems, but it still doesn't explain WHY I crave an older brother.

As I think about it, I almost wonder if it's been bred into me or something. Not by a parent or anything, but by ME. Was it just a childish whim that I nourished until it's become this overwhelming desire? Is the hole in my heart just...manufactured?

The need for an older brother is very present in the way I think. I feel lonely, like I used to have something that was taken away, or I'm supposed to have something I don't. Like there's a piece of my life missing. It honestly feels like I'm living a mistake.

I also know my dad would really like a boy, too. I mean, he has a half brother, but he had all girls, too. This is the generation my family name dies. If I had had an older brother, "Logan" could have lived on. I know Daddy wishes he had a boy, but not instead of me or anything. I know he wouldn't trade me or Lizzy for ANYTHING, but I still sort of feel bad sometimes, you know? Like I should have been the boy or something, and that would have fixed everything. Daddy would have a son. He wouldn't have to show his daughter all the stuff about tools and yard work just because he has no one else to tell. Lizzy would have an older brother at least.

I also feel kind of lonely a lot. Not for lack of friends, but for lack of...a brother. I don't like being the oldest, and I want someone to look up to, to help me out, to talk to, to protect me if I were ever in trouble.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I'm the older brother. I'm the one who kills the spiders, looks into the weird noises Lizzy hears in the basement, checks behind the closet doors, likes the gory movies, enjoys trekking through the woods, and annoys my little sister. I don't like being the "older brother", I wish I had someone else to do it.

Does any of this make any sense? I probably seem like a complete psycho, don't I?

*sigh*

Maybe there *is* something wrong with me. But whatever. I want an older brother, and this was my attempt at figuring out why.