Today is my brother's birthday. As far as the majority of the world is concerned, I don't have a brother, but I actually have two, or had two, depending how you look at it. I have two brothers who died while still babies. One, Samuel, before I was born and the other, Joseph, when I was two and a half. They died from what may or may not be an unidentified genetic disorder of which the girls in my family may or may not be carriers, if there's anything to be a carrier of (there have been various tests, each one being less conclusive than the one before). Today is Joseph's birthday. He would be 25.
I often imagine who they would have been - who they are, in that parallel world where they didn't die. A mechanic perhaps, or an artist. Maybe they'd be quiet and more serious like me or quick and deliberate like my sister. I've never pinned down an imagined character for either of them - they are nebulous in my mind, full of possibilities. The only thing I'm sure of is my love for them - we would love and like each other, I'm certain of that. They would drive me crazy and we would love each other fiercely. Because that is how our family is.
I think the loss of them has brought us all closer, bound us more tightly, for we know that it is possible to lose and what it feels like, so we love more intentionally and deliberately because of it. We do not talk about them often, but their loss is a presence in our family - one that we wouldn't be without, given we don't have them - and we remember their birthdays as a way of saying outwardly that we have not forgotten. We do not need to say it inwardly. Today is Joseph's birthday. He would be 25.
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