A Letter to my Brother.

Today I run for you. I run fast because I know that if you were running with me it would be a race, a competition. We are such rivalrous siblings you and I! Of course you would win. You have always been a gifted athlete, you still are. But I also know you would wait for me at the end...and you wouldn’t think any less of me in my loss.

Where are you? Of course I know where you are physically. But emotionally? Mentally? I try to imagine. The images that come to me are of us as children: you about six years old, golden and freckle faced, me the older sister at nine years. We are at the beach building sand castles with Gill which as you know always ends up with us burying you in the sand.  Remember that? You were always such a good sport whenever we ganged up on you.

I know you are lost somewhere in a dark pit of hurt and despair. Sadly, a place you’ve been to many times before and I often wonder if mom were still here would you have taken a different path in life? Would you have outgrown the demons that have left you emotionally stunted and scarred? Would you be better equipped to handle the peaks and valleys of every day life?

As I run my eyes are blurred and my face is wet with tears. It’s hard to see the path ahead of me and I think this is what it must be like for you right now. The way is unclear. But I also feel a gamut of other emotions: fear for you, anger at you, and confusion about you. Why do you continue, time after time, to go down the same path of despair and destruction?

As I wind my way home, I hope and pray that you will be able to find your way back again. And as my feet move swiftly, I am conscious of unloading the negative: the fear, the anger, the disappointment, the confusion. I pray not only for you but also for me...to be released from the prison of my own feelings and thoughts, to replace them with love and light, and to share your load until it becomes weightless in the distribution.

Today I ran for you, brother, and I ran a personal best.