365 Days Of Love. Day 5

I've always admired how laid back my brother is. When my sister and I would incessantly bicker, he sat back and enjoyed the show. He, like my dad, is a man of few words.

When my brother was 17, he started dappling in things that we (my family) had no idea how to respond to. He was never addicted to drugs or at risk for hurting himself or anyone else, but we still feared his well-being. My parents did all they knew how to do to help him, as did my sister. Their efforts, although very well-intentioned, resulted in exchanges of words that I'm certain everyone involved wishes they could take back. Geographically, I wasn't close to any of them, but I witnessed things unfolding from a far. I feared the demise of my family, I longed for a solution, but ultimately I, like everyone else, had no idea what to do.

One night, my senior year of college, I was walking to a bar to grab a beer with my cousin and her boyfriend. En route to our regular hangout, my phone rang. It was my dad, which generally meant he was planning something and would like my input. This time, though, it wasn't a phone call about a box garden or family vacation to the Black Hills.

When my dad bears bad news, I hear it in his voice before it matriculates into words. He was calling to tell me that my brother, a senior in college, had moved out.

Left home.

I asked questions that I knew my dad couldn't answer. What can we do? Why is this happening? Is he okay? Neither of us had words to exchange. As tears flooded my eyes, my finger pressed the "end" button on my samsung cell phone.

As my steps to the bar slowed, I was reminded of a letter I had received from my brother a few months prior. I still have the letter, here's bits and pieces of it...

Dear Natalie,

I just wanted to say thank you for letting me live my life and not judging me for the choices I make....And I know that I have never once thought you were "running away" like some other people. I think it is totally cool that you have lived in such far away places. I'm hoping to come see you sometime. Thanks again, I love you.

Your Bro,

Brian Sturdevant

In minimal words, my brother taught me that love is acceptance, not necessarily approval, but undoubtedly, acceptance.