I was sitting at my desk this week when my phone began to ring. Looking down, I saw it was my brother and my heart dropped into my stomach. He works overnights and only ever calls during the early evening, so my assumption was that something was gravely wrong. Panicked, I snatched the phone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
He laughed and said, “What a weird way to answer the phone. Of course I’m okay! It’s moving day! I was just driving to my new place and wanted to call and say hey!”
It turns out that he had completely forgotten the time difference (he lives in Texas) and it hadn’t dawned on him that I’d still be at work. We chatted about five minutes and then I hung up and went back to work. It wasn’t until five minutes later that the significance of what had transpired hit me.
I didn’t grow up with my brother. My father had him with his second wife, and we didn’t meet until 2014. We quickly became close, and it almost felt as though he had been in my life the entire time. I loved him dearly and couldn’t figure out how I’d gone so long without this relationship. That’s why I was devastated when we abruptly became estranged in the fall of 2017. During that painful demise of our communication, I masked my hurt with rage and said some truly unforgivable things in texts and emails. As the years went by, I didn’t know how to apologize my way out of my tantrum, and my assumption was that I had lost my brother for good.
Our father (who neither one of us had a relationship with) passed away in 2018, and I had no idea until I did a random internet search in 2020 and his obituary popped up. I struggled with the fact that he was gone and I still had unforgiveness in my heart toward him that I wasn’t able to truly let go of until the following spring. I knew then that I didn’t want an internet search to turn up my brother’s obituary one day, knowing that we hadn’t forgiven one another either.
This past October, with no small amount of fear, I sent my brother an email apologizing for my part in what had happened, my hateful words after, and I expressed a desire to reconnect if he was open to it. Imagine my shock when he responded with his own apology and the phone number where he could be reached. We started out texting, and when we decided to talk on the phone for the first time after our falling out, I was worried that it would be strained and awkward. To my amazement, it was as if no time had passed, and we laughed and joked around without any tinge of bitterness or unforgiveness. And though it seems impossible, I would say that our relationship has evolved into something even stronger than what it was prior to our disagreement.
I sat, mystified, basking in that realization.
Less than half a year ago, we weren’t even talking. Now, I’m the one my brother thought to call as he was driving to his new house on a random weekday afternoon.
We are more than siblings. We are friends.
If you have a relationship that feels beyond repair, keep praying. My brother and I are proof that God not only can, He will.