I don't even remember what day it was - one of the most unique, startling moments of my life, and I can't remember what day it was. In fact, I don't even remember what month it was - was it October? Or was it November? The Fall months...they always seem to be the hardest, don't they? And while I can't remember what day it was, or the month, I remember everything so clearly. I remember what I was wearing - my favorite flannel pajamas, red and black and gray. I remember where I was sitting, on my couch, sinking into the cushions with my favorite blue blanket across my lap. I remember what I was watching - Supernatural, no chick flick moments. I remember where my husband was sitting, to my right, busily typing away on his computer, click click click. Our dog, Bentley, was sleeping to my left, curled up into a ball of fur and love and warmth.
And that's when I got it, the phone call.
Flash backwards...flash backwards almost seventeen years ago. Flash backwards to a 3 year old girl with long, ash-blonde hair and freckles and blue eyes, and see her on her knees, praying praying praying. Eyes squeezed shut tight and all I want, more than anything in the world, is a little brother. A little brother to be my best friend, to be my partner in crime, someone to look out over the yard with, and see absolute, pure, magic - castles and knights and he would be there, by my side with my sister, battling the dragons. Someone to play in the sprinklers with my sister and I, someone to shake our worlds up a little bit, and to bring a new type of otherworldly kindness and tenderness to our family that we didn't even know we needed. Desperate prayers - I want a brother, just give me a baby brother. And just like that, he was here - Grayson was here. June of 2000, two weeks after my 4th birthday, and he was here.
Flash forward now, 5 years after when I had laid eyes on the answer to all of my tiny, whisper-prayers. And we are inseparable - we are carbon copies of each other; stone blue eyes and freckles and thick, ash-blonde hair, both of us gifted with a cowlick. And we are cowboys and cowgirls, wearing boots and hats and throwing our heads back, laughing wildly. When he was born, my sister wasn't so sure, but now, now she is very sure - he was exactly what we needed, exactly what our family had been missing. I have memories, memories of all five of us squished into man parents bed, watching TV and giggling together. I have memories, climbing high into cherry trees, racing down snow-covered hills and watching the Magic School Bus, all with my brother and sister. I have memories, with him, sneaking out onto the roof in the cool summer evenings, even though we knew we weren't supposed to, but the view was absolutely spectacular.
And suddenly, I am back in 2017, and I'm listening to my mother on the other line, and it seems so much darker and so much later than it really is as I hear her voice echo across time and space, a state apart and yet I feel as though she is sitting right next to me. That's when she tells me, that's when she says it - that's when she tells me his story. Gray's story. About the substance abuse, and the alcohol abuse. About Gray being gay, and about the boyfriend we didn't even know existed. And I am absolutely shocked, and in tears, and I don't even know what to say. And tears are just pouring, gushing, and my stone blue eyes feel stormy and there are so many things running through my head, like a train that just won't slow down and I'm being derailed and yet staying on the tracks all at the same time. And she's crying too, sobbing heavy, heavy tears that only a mother can cry. And David is beside me and he's holding my hand and he looks so stable - so safe, but he is silent.
Then, my sister is talking to me. She's in tears too, and I can feel the weight of her anger, frustration and sadness through my phone. And she's asking David to pray - she's asking him to pray for us, because all we feel is shock and confusion and hurt. There my husband is, so strong, so secure, holding my hand as he prays over my weeping sister and I. To love is to be vulnerable, and I have not felt more vulnerable than this in my entire life.
And then the phone is bounced - passed along from family member to family member until I hear his voice. Gray's voice. My brother's voice. He is quiet; timid; the boy who absolutely loves to talk as much as he possibly can, is completely silent as I ask why? Why not tell us? Why now? Why not sooner? Why didn't you tell me? My hurt is heavy - because the fact that he's gay, is not what hurts; what hurts, is the fact that he didn't tell me, and I thought we told each other everything. And soon, he is gone, and we hang up, and I sit crying, clinging to my husband like he's the only thing that will keep me from being swept away. And I'm asking God, what was going to happen to us now, now that my brother's sexuality and alcohol and substance abuse problems are out in the open. I want to know, why the Lord had decided to shake up our world with such news, and I wondered, what was going to happen next.
The year is 2018, and it's May. I talked to Gray yesterday...he's doing great. He's graduating high school in June, on my birthday. I talked to Ryan too; Ryan is Gray's boyfriend, and he spends most of his time at my parents' house, with my brother. Ryan is our newest family member - everything my mom, dad, sister, brother, grandma, husband and I do, we do with Ryan in tow; in fact, home no longer is home, without Ryan. We FaceTimed recently, and talked about Skyrim and discussed sandwich creations and their future plans, and how great it will be when David and I move closer to them in June. We laugh together, snicker together, plan and dream together. And suddenly, we are 5 and 9, and nothing has changed.
There are lots of things I have learned over the course of this journey so far - there are lots of things I have learned after finding out my brother is gay. The first thing, is that Ryan has added a lot of good things to our family dynamic. It feels almost weird without Ryan around, because now everyone is used to him being at home when they get off work. My mom took his picture on his first day of his junior year, and on his first day of work, and he spent Thanksgiving at mine and David's house with the rest of my family. Ryan has been easy to love, he has been kind and for that, I am personally forever grateful.
The other thing I learned, is that nothing has changed. The way I love my brother, is absolutely the same. I know, I know...there are crazy stories of Christians condemning the gay community, and kicking them out of their houses. But ya know, I like to think my family breaks that stereotype. And maybe we just got lucky, but for us...nothing has changed. Gray is our brother, our son, our grandson and our brother-in-law, and that is the beginning and end of everything. In fact, I didn't think it was possible, but I would even venture to say we love Gray now, more than we did before we knew he was gay, and believe me, we loved him an awful lot.
The final thing I learned, is about love. C.S. Lewis writes, "To love at all, is to be vulnerable." He couldn't have been more right; loving over these last few months has made me feel very, very vulnerable. I have felt raw and exposed. But at the same time, I have never felt more love towards my brother than I have over these last few months. I understand now, a deeper aspect of a sister's love that I never even knew existed. And it is flawless.
