I was angry at my dad yesterday. I guess I may be most days without realizing it. But yesterday I felt it, acknowledged it, vocalized it. Yesterday I resented the void he left in my big brother’s life, and the weight on mine. Today I am tired.

Yesterday morning my big brother sat up in a ER hospital bed, uncomfortable and struggling to breathe. Yet he was still the same big brother making everyone laugh. He introduced me to the ER staff as his lover. He poked fun at the youthful appearance of the elders who came and prayed for him. Every new person who entered the room was greeted with another wise crack. This morning my big brother is sedated, intubated and on a ventilator.

Yesterday morning I was the baby big brother. I guess I am most days- at least I feel like I need to be. When my sister in law left the room for a few minutes, the jokes stopped. My big brother reached out for me. He put my hand on his face and leaned in on my shoulder. He told me he was scared. He cried. He told me “you don’t even know how you’ve helped me get through.” In that moment I again both felt and filled the void I’ve felt countless times in my life. I was big brother. I was dad. I was and am so thankful to be that dependable source of strength, comfort, and love that my big brother always deserved to have in his life.

But I’m also resentful and angry. If dad had been here for him, the events leading up to yesterday may have never happened. If dad had been there for us, I could have had a shoulder to cry on too.