This is the final post in the three-part series on family. I was created the youngest of four boys. The oldest is Marc, next is Brian, and finally Steven. Steven is the youngest and he is seven years older than me. As a small child, I felt very protected by them. As we all grew older though, something began to change. Suddenly, I found myself the only one still living at home, sometimes. This post is meant to highlight the life I had as that youngest of four, and recognize how much better a family we can always be toward each other.
It was a gold and white afghan that my mom crocheted. I'm not sure, as she constantly worked those needles, that she had planned for this afghan to be used for these purposes, but having had four boys, I think she knew anything was possible. Anytime, my mom left all us boys at home alone, we always played this great game. We never named it. And for some reason, I was always happy to play it. We would turn off all lights in the house. I would sit and wait anxiously as my brothers prepared the afghan in the other room, laying it out so perfectly in the floor. Each would grab a corner and one would grab two. At the moment that all necessary preparations had been made, I being so young, became thrilled when I would hear them yell, "We're ready!" I found so much joy in starting my sprint through the den, into the kitchen and entry way and finally into the dark living room. At the precise moment my feet hit the center of the worn afghan, my brothers would jerk the afghan up and roll me into a ball. Sometimes, they would just pull it out from under me. Amazingly enough, I always remember getting up and insisting we go another round! These are some of the fondest memories I had of my brothers, until June of 2013.
"Family Day" had already begun with my mom, and now it was time to begin the difficult conversations with my brothers. Marc, was at work, and I remember asking him if he had a few minutes to talk. Of all my brothers, Marc has always come across as the most intimidating to me. Though he always took great care of me as a child, as we grew older, time, distance, and differences in opinion began to separate us. Marc served in the US Navy for ten years. I thank him for that service, because he chose to defend his country in a way I never would. This provided Marc the opportunity to see things in a very different light than his young, somewhat naive, youth pastor brother did. We all inherited the need to be right and so many arguments developed that in all reality, my legalistic Christian worldview created (I still consider myself a Christian, but legalism is certainly not my mantra). I always remember Marc as a man's man. Very masculine and very tough. As I began to share with Marc the script that I had nearly gotten down pat, I remember my heart racing more than it had with anyone else. As my one-sided script turned into conversation, you could feel the tension somewhat subside. While Marc has always come across as the tough brother, I began to realize the reason he was so tough on me. One thing you can always count on with Marc is that he is authentic. He says what he believes and he is who he is. He does not allow a lot of space in his life for people and things which are not true. Marc had known all along, and I believe all Marc ever wanted me to be was true. Marc and his wife Chasity are always so welcoming of me in their home when I am putting together a StrikeHard event in Montgomery, and without them we may not even be in that market. Thank you.
Brian was always the gracious and loving brother. He's the non-conflict guy. He realistically was the brother that I was least concerned about telling of my homosexuality. Brian has always shown a great amount of care for me, and there are very few times in my life that I remember parting ways with him without a hug and an "I love you." As I think back, I can't even think of any substantial arguments or conflicts that we have ever even had. My fondest memories of Brian were always when he would drive me to McGill-Toolen High School in the ninth grade because I didn't want to take the bus. He had the best truck that he had totally customized and I always felt on a different level riding in the passenger seat of that truck. As I told Brian, it was exactly as I suspected. He was full of love and pride for his younger brother finally being able to live an authentic life.
Steven. Well let's just say that Steven and I never really got along too great. Look, I can't help that I came along and he was no longer the baby. The interesting thing is, as I think back to my childhood and even early adult life, my memories of Steven are not really negative or positive. They just are. He had his own trials and tribulations, but there was never any sort of deep connection or relationship between the two of us. As Steven went through some tough times in life we were able to bond a little bit through our faith, but overall, eh. As I told Steven that June morning, I'll never forget his words. "It's about damn time, little brother!" Totally Steven. We now have grown extremely close, speaking often and he has been such a huge help to StrikeHard Productions at the last 6 MMA events we have produced. We have gone from having mediocre memories to having memories that will forever stick inside our hearts. I know that I can tell Steven anything, although I don't totally trust his judgement yet on trying to set me up with someone. Maybe one day Steven.
I realize now that every one of my brothers knew my identity better than I did my own. The canyon that had developed between us over the years had very little to do with age difference but more to do with my own insecurities. I am relieved that for once, we can all be a family that knows, loves and respects each other. This is something that has come with age, maturity and authenticity. I never could imagine the day that all of us lived in peace with each other and supported each other in each endeavor the other takes on. I'm proud that I have such an eclectic group of brothers that have different personalities and traits. Every one of them has taught me something in my life. Marc has taught me to stand up and be a man. To handle my business and not rely on others to do it for me. Brian has taught me that no matter how tough life can be to keep moving forward with a positive attitude and care for others. Steven has taught me to celebrate. To embrace who I am and to love deeply. The other day as I left my father's he turned around and made a simple statement that struck me. Y'all stick together...the four of you. None of us are perfect and we may never be the best brothers, but these are MY brothers. This is MY family. I could not imagine walking this road with brothers any different and I know that I will never be a man alone in this world because of them. We will Dad. Until next time...
Marc, Brian and Steven:
I want to thank you for all you have meant to me over the last few months of this journey we call life. I want to congratulate you on raising great children. It is my hope that as they grow older, that we also continue to grow in our relationships with one another. You will never know, nor could a blog post express how much each of you have meant and will continue to mean to my life. Now, I will stop because Marc hates the sappy sh*t. Love y'all.
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