Dear Patrick, I was then an only child who had everything I wanted. However, even a pretty, spoiled and rich kid could get lonely once in a while so when Mom told me that she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I imagined how wonderful you would be, how we would always be together and how much you would look like me. Hence, when you were born, I looked at your tiny hands and feet and marveled at how beautiful you were. We took you home and I showed you proudly to my friends. They would touch you and sometimes pinch you but you never reacted. When you were five months old, some things began to bother Mom. You seemed so unmoving and numb and your cries sounded odd - almost like a kitten's. Therefore, we brought you to see many doctors. The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said you have "cri du chat" (pronounced as Kree-do-sha) syndrome or "cry of the cat" in French. When I asked what that meant, he looked at me with pity and
softly said, "Your brother will never walk nor talk."
When we went home, Mom took you in her arms and cried. I looked at you and realized that word will get around that you're not normal. Hence, to hold on to my popularity, I did the unthinkable. I disowned you. Mom and Dad didn't know but I steeled myself not to love you as you grew. Mom and Dad showered you with love and attention and that made me bitter. As the years passed, that bitterness turned to anger and then hate.
Mom never gave up on you. She knew she had to do it for your sake.
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