Growing up, my brother and I, were 10 years apart in age, we had a traditional sibling relationship. You know, the pushing, shoving, yelling, teasing kind of love. Aside from the occasional fight, he was the best big brother anyone could have asked for. I often look through old pictures that have been locked up in the attic for years, dusty and stuck together. Most of the pictures that I found of the two of us were of times that I didn’t necessarily remember, but was glad they were captured.
My favorites were of our vacation days out on the boat, swimming in the lake, and playing with frogs. Others were of his first memories with me; pushing me in the swing, hiding me among stuffed animals, and building extravagant card houses around me as I slept. He was a protective older brother, sticking up for his sister in her most desperate times; specifically the story of when one of the neighbor boys touched my stroller. As we grew up, we became closer, but we also became progressively busy. He was in college for culinary arts, and I was in high school.
I looked forward to coming home and going through our normal routine of afterschool TV shows and snacks consisting of "The Cosby Show," "Friends," and "Seinfeld." The kitchen always smelled as if it were an Italian restaurant expecting customers. I would give the usual “What did you make?” and “What smells like garlic?” I was the taste tester, often not knowing what he was giving me; He would say “just eat it,” which was code for “There’s something in here you don’t usually like, but eat it anyway!”
The following years consisted of numerous changes, including the birth of his son. The baby brought such joy to our worlds, yet at the same time, we were experiencing heartbreak. The baby’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer and was growing weaker as days, weeks, and months went by. Much of the family helped to care for the baby, and just a few years later, the mother had passed on. His birth brought my brother and I closer than ever—it brought me to a heart-warming realization. I was proud of my brother. I saw him through the ups and downs of life and learned that he was an amazing father, brother, and son.
Meanwhile, we met Jaime. I can remember the day that I first met her. I got home from school and my mother had told me that she and my brother were coming over for dinner to meet the family. From the moment I had learned about Jaime, I was full of excitement, curiosity, and most of all, the urge to meet her! The first time I saw her, I knew that she was special. She was a beautiful girl with long brown hair, and a warm, inviting smile. I fell in love with her. Throughout the dinner, we got to know a bit about her and what she does. I watched her interact with my nephew, and most importantly how much he loved her, and felt comfortable with her. I saw how happy my brother was, and from that moment, I knew that she was going to be a part of our family.
A couple years went by and Jaime was a large part of our lives; we spent Christmases, birthdays, and many summer days together. We created lasting memories that I think of often; one being her ability to find four-leaf clovers. The day we met Jaime she had found one and I kept it. It was neatly protected in clear wrap for two years before it sadly disappeared. A while later, when I was a college freshman at the time, I had received a phone call from my mother, but when I answered, Jaime was on the phone. Something was definitely up.
I giggled as she told me that she had news to share. Jaime told me that we were going to be sisters, and I started to cry. I was filled with so many emotions and had wished that I was there to congratulate them. Later, I talked to my brother on the phone and told him how happy I was for him and he shared his story of how it all happened. I was overjoyed.
Coming home for a quick break, we stopped at their house for a visit one night; it was my first time seeing them in person since the news of their engagement. I sat down at the kitchen table and Jaime placed a glittery, silver box in front of me (in fact, I think I may still have some glitter on me). It had a Purple bow on it with my initials. I opened it and read it aloud and felt the water works coming on once more. I was going to be a bridesmaid! The next few months were full of so much excitement as we planned, tried on dresses, and prepared for a wedding. As she tried on her first dress, I cried.
Reality had set in that this was the woman my brother was going to marry. She will be his companion for the rest of her life. She loves him, and she loves my nephew.
When the day had finally come, I woke with a feeling of nervousness, excitement and joy. It was a beautiful day. The ladies got ready at the salon, and later moved on to Jaime’s sister’s house, and the guys at my brother’s house. When the moment had come, I was the first to walk down the aisle. As I stepped into place before walking down the stairs, I looked down at my brother. I felt goosebumps rise up my arms and back; I walked misty eyed to my spot and my brother gave me a wink as I walked by. The moment that Jaime came into sight, everyone rose and watched her walk down the aisle. She was the most beautiful bride I had ever seen, and in just a short while, although she was already part of it, she would be family.
When I lost sight of her, I looked to my brother and saw the face of the happiest man in the world. A man in love, waiting to greet his bride. The rest of the night was full of laughter and happiness.
At one point during the reception, I stopped and looked around. I was in awe of the amount of love that had filled the room. At the end of the night, we all said our goodbyes and gave our best wishes. Since that night, I have been happy to call Jaime family.
To the woman who married my brother,
For your warmth. For the friend that I have found in you. For the mother that you are. For the love that you give. For the happiness that you have given my brother.
Thank you.
All my love,
Your sister.
