My brother got married.
In this room.

On Friday the thirteenth.
In January.
On Mt Hood.

At Timberline Lodge.

Where they shot the exteriors for The Shining.

Perhaps that tells you something about who he is. Who the woman he married is.
It sure as hell told me.

I haven’t seen my brother since my dad died over seven years ago. We talk occasionally, mostly we text. This seems to work for us.
Our relationship is tricky, but my love for him is genuine.

Since he met, and fell in love with this woman, he seems to me more like the little boy he was. More inclined to feel and express joy, more inclined to celebrate small things, less likely to focus on how much longer he has to be miserable in this life.

I will celebrate that until the last breath leaves my body!
But I’d choose to celebrate it from here while he feels love and joy there.
That’s what’s best for me. Not going into over-functioning ‘big sister mode’ around him. And though logically I know that’s unnecessary, that childhood conditioning kicks in, then the feeling borders on compulsion.

When YBW found out they were going to wed, he was so excited! He was like, I’m buying plane tickets right now! He enjoyed meeting my brother and would like to know him better.
Thing 2 was equally excited, bursting to celebrate with that beloved uncle!
Thing 1 was excited, but not eager to get on a plane across the country. Though neither did she want to miss anything.
I was over here like, this is a bad idea.
But as I’m his only sibling, and our parents are deceased, and my husband and youngest child were so unbelievably enthusiastic, I got on a plane across the country to celebrate my brother’s joy.
I mean, my husband, both my kids (and Boyfriend M) couldn’t go if I didn’t go, I’m the link, right?

It was as awkward as I’d imagined.
All her family (she’s one of six siblings), people she works with, my niece, who literally ran from me and her cousins, and my cousin, who stood up as best man, and the five of us.
Living through that meal was excruciating. There was no joy in Mudville, y’all. We were sat separately and essentially disregarded.
In all honesty, it was almost exactly what I expected.
But here’s the most important thing, I will always have the moment of seeing my brother’s tearful face filled with love and joy.
I don’t have to regret missing out on that.
And sometimes, that’s enough.