Giving Up Never Brought Anyone Back

By the time you read this article, my family and I would have laid my brother’s body to rest. The funeral would be over and all of us would continue adjusting to life knowing he’s not with us. I would continue to cope knowing that I’ll never see him live the life and career I’d encouraged him to strive for. I’m force to accept not uplifting him, to convince him to see his value and talent.

As an aspiring writer, I’ve believe in the power of words. They have been the greatest means of communication. Words caused wars and maintained peace among people and civilizations. Words have been the driving force of different ideologies. Personally, the right words have change how I perceive myself and the world around me.

My brother had joy in his life, especially when he was younger. He’s been the go-to person for small mechanical issues we had such as an unreadable cassette or DVD player, washing machine, a couple gaming consoles, and dozens of battery powered toys. Til this day I’m baffled as to how he fixed any of those things without proper education. My brother was smart in the way every engineer began. My brother had an under developed passion for designing. Heck, thinking about it HE was the reason I wanted to take up Architecture; the senior trip Orlando, Florida was only a reassurance!

But that not the life he ventured in. My brother never pursued life as an engineer. He never completed middle school. Nor did he try to attain his GED despite the few people who encouraged him and offered to pay the exam cost. He never made a decent living taking up a suitable trade to support himself. I can assume he had good times, but a good life remains to be proven.

There were so many times we’ve talked to one another. So many instances we agreed, disagreed, and just shared jokes and personal revelations. So many times I’ve used what little I knew to express what I believed about him. I’ve tried to be a decent example.

In hindsight, I believe that I was too late to make an effort. He was already old enough to determine his own lot in life regardless of how detrimental his future would be if taken that direction. I also know that I was not enough. In a social condition where hundreds of people are enticing you with short-term gratification, one voice of reason will always get drowned out. The world is hard enough already, and it’s easy for anyone to pick the road with little resistance. He’s become another victim of that faith.

I did give up on him. I can’t lie about always believing in him. Yet he didn’t know. Our last long calls was him being thankful that I haven’t given up on him. He mentioned – and I do believe he was exaggerating – that no one really made the effort to help him the way I had. Even after our most verbal altercation, there were still times I would help him despite knowing I’m being conned. It took a lot to give up, knowing so much about him. Living with someone since childhood and being one of the older siblings grants you that ego. Maybe I just have…HAD…high hopes. But one day I just force it. He was a man with his own view of the world and I had to respect him enough to make his own choices regardless.

There may have been a reason he thought I had faith in him. Maybe what I have done was so much so that it was hard for him to accept that I have. Yet, that’ll never be enough. No checklist of any size could convince me that I did all I could to help him. He is still gone. He still had so much going for him.

I’m not good at coping. I still have the regret of my mother’s passing still looming my thoughts. But life goes on and giving up completely won’t help since giving up never brought anyone back. I’m a failure with words, but right now it feels like all I have to remember him by. And I want to use these words.

You may know him by the short dreads or the nappy hairstyle he sported. You may have seen him in the baggy cloth style I’m glad to know is phasing out of style. His clothing style fumed with tobacco and mild cologne would have veered anyone off that didn’t know him. If not his tough guy persona would have. He would be classified as a hoodlum, cool ass dude, or thief depending on who you asked. Some may say he’s a hopeless cause or one of the smartest young handyman you’d come to know.

To me he would always be the kid who ran with me to mother to let her know there was a roach spotted. He would be someone who would stay up with you to play the game if you got tired of single player. He is another sibling I could make fun of the neighbors with and devise ways to finish supper without eating mother’s terrible boiled squash. He is the reason I love LEGOs and still have a sparkling desire to finish my Architectural Degree. He is someone who stood up for me when I was bullied, and corrected anyone who had the false notion that I was gay. He’s someone that was worth all the effort even when it felt like talking to a brick wall. He is the boy who was given the name Big Bird because of the yellow outfits he dawned in grade school for some ridiculous reason. No matter how many times I’ve said he wasn’t just to make him mad, he has always been my brother. And I will miss him dearly.

I might have to rethink this writing thing.