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Saturday, June 23, 2012

Ange.

There are 4 of us in my family: Faj, Ma, me, and my Brof. I am the baby. I call my brother Ange for no other reason then I came up with it one day (remember my weird nickname thing?). His name is Andrew David, after my Grandpa. Growing up his nickname became Dango because his best friend Casey couldn't say his name. So cute, right? My brother was the cutest baby. No joke. Gerber baby. Bright blue eyes, blonde hair, pale skin, giant head, and the cutest little smile. Then out came me: olive skin, dark brown/almost black hair, dark brown tiny eyes, with dimples. We are complete opposites, but that in no way changed our relationship. There is no one I would've rather spent my childhood growing up with than him.
When we were little my brother took such good care of me. You will find millions of pictures of him giving me a giant kiss on the cheek. And what am I doing? Crying. We shared a bedroom pretty much until middle school and yes, we had bunk beds. We would find the coolest games to play in our rooms. We had a mini hoop taped to the back of our door and we would see who could make the hardest shot from across the room: between the legs, over the fan, eyes closed, off the wall; we were pros in the making. His love for basketball began to blossom, and of course, I had to follow suit.
Our parents bought us a real basketball hoop to put out in the street and he would play for HOURS. I mean until the wee hours of the night. Practicing. Dribbling. Shooting. He was going to be the next MJ. With his little crooked pinky's he would practice his free throws until he was satisfied. Of course, his little annoying sister would BEG him to let her rebound.
Once we got older, we grew a little apart. He had his cool friends, and it just wasn't as cool to hang out with your kid sister anymore. We both were engulfed in sports and were busy as any 13 and 16 year old teenagers. When my brother graduated from High School, I was so proud of him. He went off to college and the house just didn't feel the same. We were down to 3.
I will never forget this next part. It was my senior year in High School and I just finished my basketball game. I remember getting out of the shower, walking up the bleachers to give my mom a hug and she got a phone call. From my brother. I was so excited to tell him about my 20 point game, but his news to us was much more important. He went into the doctor that night to find out he had testicular cancer. He was 20 years old. He was in Eugene and we were down in Winston. I kept telling my mom to go faster and faster as we flew up the highway. He made it out of surgery only wanting one thing, a giant burrito from Taco Bell. He has always been a fighter. He kicked that cancer's butt. 
I don't get to see my brother often (as well as the rest of my family because hello, we're in Abu Dhabi!) but we both are pretty busy bees when we're at home. I miss him. And I miss our childhood together. I would give anything to just have one more family night at the house; Dad teaching us how to play poker with pretzels and grapes, Disney movie on a Sunday night, and stuffing our faces on a Saturday morning with Mom's french toast. Those are the times I cherish with all my heart, and always will.
The reason for this post is to tell you how much I love my brother. He just recently got a job in Colorado, training for a month, and then he will go again to Michigan to start work. He does not know anyone he works with, he has never been to Colorado or Michigan, this is all completely new to him. But he prayed, and sought the Lord for a door to open and it did. He trusted that this was where God wanted him to be, and he took a giant leap of faith. I am so proud of what he is doing and so proud to call him my big brother. One day he is going to make an awesome husband and father and I will be just as proud as I am right now.
Thank you Lord for blessing me with my Ange, I am forever grateful for him.
Love you brofy!!!













Have you told your siblings you love them lately?
God bless!

1 comment:

  1. Sure, why not start the morning off crying! Brat!

    ReplyDelete

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