Family History is the Unbreakable Bond

     Yesterday as I was writing about "backstory", I texted my older brother one word and one tiny phrase. He immediately responded with three names that brought both of us back over forty years. Those simple, basic words created a whole world of memories around me. I laughed for a good ten minutes. In that brief text exchange I realized our shared history is an unbreakable bond. I love my brothers. My older brother and I are closest in age and have a long shared family history. 

     To be sure, with most siblings our relationship is complicated but I love my brother completely. I can complain about him and give him the business, but no one outside the family can do that in my presence. In just one text message to me, without a greeting, just three names, I realized how strong a bond between siblings exists. That one text created so many neurological and physiological reactions on my part, and his I'm sure, that we truly are linked through the magic of memories. 

     No one knows me as well as my older brother. I am dramatic, annoying, attention seeking, demanding, and great at everything I set myself out to do. He knows all this and has had to live with it his whole life. No one, but Joseph, knows the path I walked to get me here. Society talks all the time about love being the binding force. I am beginning to think there is more to that. Memories, shared experiences, are as strong if not stronger. 

     My brother is not a talker like I am. He doesn't always share his feelings and his thoughts. As I write this I am thinking about how much I love him and how many huge laughs we have shared as kids. I think about all the shared: Because she/he is crazy, when our parents went on a rampage. I think about all the chicken cutlets and all the raviolis and I cannot escape the fact that we had a lot of great times. I remember laughing in church together and getting in trouble for not being able to sit still. I remember car rides to our Grandmothers house in Queens that felt like a century, but were really forty-five minutes. I remember Christmas Eve nights when we couldn't sleep and giggling ourselves to sleep as our crazy parents told us to go to sleep or else! I remember quietly pleading his case when he got in trouble to my parents. I remember being the only one home to give him the news that his childhood best friend had tragically passed away. I was looking all around for my parents, but how could I tell him call back when they are home? I will never forget how many times we played Star Wars and Nintendo together and how many times we hid from our Mom when she was having her period. True story. You could always tell when Janey was having her menstrual cycle, she was a beast! In the summer we would hide in the pool or in the air conditioning far from the wrath of her discomfort. There is one name in Cottone family history that is sacred: Clancy. He would be the only person left to feel love from his toes to his hair at the mention of that name.  

     As maturity and the difficulties of life have taught me, our family is everything. We must stand next to them, in front of them, or behind them when they need us. Yesterday, I needed that laugh from my brother. Now that our Mother has passed away, he is the only person left who would know how to answer that text. Today, I am in awe of the power of history and the bond it forges between siblings. Each sibling has the right to live their life according to their own ethics and values, however, we are bonded by the indelible history we share.