Tomorrow marks what would have been my Brother’s 73rd birthday. It’s been five years since he passed, and I still miss him every single day. It’s hard to express how deeply he impacted my life or how his absence has left a void no one else could fill.
Eleven years older than me, my Brother was a towering presence in every sense — physically, intellectually, and emotionally. He was a good man, the kind you rarely encounter, and those fortunate enough to know him well were better for it. He carried a magnetic charm, handsome and debonair like our father, but with a quieter, more introspective edge. Though he attracted his fair share of pretty girlfriends, he was more of a nerd at heart — a brilliant student who excelled in both academics and sports.
Like me, he was a hopeless romantic. We both longed for the kind of love our parents shared — a divine bond that spanned 60 years of marriage. They were best friends in the truest sense, living out their vows with profound respect and love. Their practice of washing each other’s feet was a simple yet profound reflection of their humility and devotion. Imagine growing up in a home where love was so palpable you never heard a raised voice or saw a moment of discord.
But that kind of love is rare, and neither my Brother nor I were fortunate enough to find it in our own lives. Our Calvinistic upbringing left us socially awkward, with a warped understanding of relationships. We both made poor choices in partners, chasing ideals that were never meant to last.
My Brother carried his share of heartbreak. He endured years of hurt and betrayal, trapped in a relationship that offered tolerance rather than love. The emotional toll of staying in such a union, of keeping up appearances while his soul was quietly crushed, is something I still grieve for him. The pain he endured, undeserved and unrelenting, went with him to the grave.
Yet, despite his personal struggles, my Brother remained a man of immense character and depth. His authenticity was his hallmark — he despised pretence and lived true to the values instilled in him by our parents. His warmth and love were palpable, radiating to everyone who had the privilege of knowing him.
What set him apart, though, was his mind. A voracious reader and lifelong learner, he had an insatiable curiosity that spanned philosophy, mythology, theology, and beyond. With a gift for speed-reading and near-photographic recall, he absorbed information like a sponge. The advent of the internet was a playground for his intellect, and his ability to synthesize vast amounts of knowledge into brilliant insights was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
Conversations with him were unforgettable. He had a way of listening deeply, dissecting arguments with precision, and responding with such clarity and brilliance that you’d often be left in stunned admiration. It was like speaking to a sage — someone who had seen it all and distilled the essence of life into wisdom you could carry with you forever.
But for all his intellect and achievements, it was his humanity that left the greatest mark. He made mistakes, like all of us do, but he faced them with humility and an unwavering commitment to his family. He never shied away from responsibility, and the love he gave was as steadfast as it was unconditional.
When I think of my Brother, I am struck by how few people possess the kind of depth he had. True character, I’ve come to believe, is forged in the fires of pain and suffering. It’s in facing trauma, loss, and disappointment that we are “tenderised,” stripped of arrogance and ego, and shaped into our most authentic selves. My Brother emerged from his struggles with a heart full of compassion and a spirit that refused to break.
Those of us who knew him intimately carry the treasure of his memory. His wise counsel, warm demeanour, and unshakable authenticity enriched our lives in ways words cannot fully capture. I often wish the whole world could have known him. God knows the world would be a better place with more men like my Brother.
I’m saddest that he isn’t here to share in the joyful life he had such a hand in shaping. But I can hear him cheering me on, urging me toward bigger and better things. Our legacies are intertwined, and it’s my duty — and my privilege — to remind the world of the extraordinary man God blessed me with as a Brother.
He may no longer walk this earth, but his influence lives on in the lives he touched. And as long as I have breath, I will honour his memory, carrying forward the lessons he taught me and the love he so freely gave.
Happy birthday, Big Brudda. You’ll always be my hero.
Have a wonderful weekend and remember to be generous! 😊
As always, thanks for reading. 🙏
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