The Truth About Lies

I've been the imperfectly perfect sister for all my life. I've always looked to my brother for guidance, support, input, witty insight, unconditional love and brotherly affection. He was anything but shy. A confident young man who stood with a casual air about him, his mannerisms exuded a mellow tone but his movements were animated and colorful. When I picture him in the fluff of my mind, he's moving, always moving. Arms are speaking a language of their own, feet are cascading a story he loved to tell and mouth is overflowing with happy sounds and laughter.
He wasn't extremely close to any people in particular, but he has a handful of friends whom he spent a lot of time with over his adult years. He was socially wild and knew so many people but people who knew him were twice that amount. Still, he knew hundreds and I was his number 1. We could easily push the world away when we spent time together. I could call him and receive his undivided attention. He was my rock.

Charley was somewhat of a celebrity to me, in that I would always watch him in awe and pure admiration. Everything he did…from playfully sing songs, tell jokes, dance funny, sports, friendships, endeavors, his career, his romance, his commitment, his meals…were all so imperfectly perfect. I could tell him anything without feeling judged or criticized. I could never hide anything from him for he knew me so well. Often times he would play devils advocate and explore my feelings so that I would ultimately admit what he knew I wanted to say all along. The guy got me. All my life, I had a man who never left my side and who could count on me for genuine, dedicated love. I am his number one fan.

And so throughout our lives together, we'd tell white lies but it was always for emphasis. I can be quite the actor and he was quite the performer. We were a pristine act in each other's presence. Anyone who was around us could easily witness the love and respect. I never knew, and would've never thought, that I'd lose this relationship, this irreplaceable connection. The longest we ever went without speaking to one another was two days- which was in his last couple of weeks. He didn't speak to me but I called and called and left him voice mails until he caved. I couldn't stand the thought of not speaking to him and hearing his voice and disappointing him. I could never hurt him- and I did with foolish words that I thought would help him. Tough love, right? Wrong. Bad timing.

Over my brother's entire life, I lied to him twice, omitted supportive information once and kept tight-lipped about a childhood incident that I desperately wanted to divulge. In our last life together, I debated bringing all of this up…seconds away from opening my mouth and spilling everything out…and I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't. In those moments and in moments of opportunity, I said nothing. I wasn't truthful and I hurt him without him knowing I hurt him. And I'm so sorry I didn't measure up. I wanted nothing more than to keep focus on him and his feelings, but I know that sharing mine would've provided some relief or intimacy that I know he would've been grateful for. He wouldn't have judged me- of course he wouldn't. I held my tongue and twisted my gut, and in doing so, I also lost my brother. While I was mentally strategizing how to tell him I haven't always been the perfect sister he adores, he was holding onto me and looking to me to be me.
How did this happen? How could I have dropped the ball? I was terrified. I only knew how to love him with all that I have and not all that I could have resourced for him. I didn't know he needed saving, I only knew he needed me. And so I gave him all of me. I confess, and inadequately apologize, I failed him.