Skeeter

That's a random name for a beautiful, happy Sunday afternoon. Honestly, it's a random thought that keeps coming back to me.

Facebook creates this alternate universe where my little brother and I are friends even though there is no contact. We know what is happening in each other's lives to the extent that we are willing to share with the world.

However, I have no fake or real contact with my other brother. In fact, most people don't even know I have a second brother or another niece and nephew. I think maybe I forget sometimes too.

I do. He's the middle child and 16 months younger than me. Thanks to a few weird dreams and seeing a few men who resemble him, he's been on my mind this week.

Skeeter is his nickname. He's had it since we were kids. Even my brothers kids know him as uncle Skeeter.

He's a complete stranger to me now and probably always has been. I know 18 years of his story, but can't possibly fathom how it has altered his life.

The last time I saw him was somewhere around nine years ago. We weren't close even before my departure from the family.

He was married to a woman for several years and left her probably 10-11 years ago. He viciously lied about his ex, claiming she was a lesbian. It wasn't until years later that we learned he cheated and left his wife for a woman my moms age. To my knowledge, he is still with her.

If I came into contact with my parents today, they wouldn't be strangers. No amount of time or distance will ever erase the vivid memories I have of them. It would never change exactly what I know of them.

But my brother.... I can't even wrap my head around having a brother out there that I don't know.

Dreams and reminders of him make me sad.

There's a good reason we don't have a relationship. We cannot. We are toxic together. I know what 18+ years of abuse made him and therefore cannot be near him. One of the last times I saw him, he left me with a black eye, busted lip and concussion. That alone is reason enough to never be near him.

Given what my little brother has shared, it is safe to say that a reconciliation will never be possible for us. It's another long term effect of growing up in a living hell. That orphan feeling runs deep.

Most days, weeks and months go by without thinking about him. But that hole, that sadness always resides just below the surface. It's deep and wide. I can't even describe it. I hide it as it comes and wish away the longing for family.

These, these are the ripple effects of surviving abusive parents.