I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this story before, but when I was about 9 or 10 my family was in Detroit at my Grandma June’s house, for our regular Christmas Eve visit. Adam and I were wrestling (always) and he had me - in my Christmas dress - in a figure four. If you don’t know what that wrestling move is, consider yourself lucky. I was frustrated that my tights were twisting and I started panic-squirming to get free, when he didn’t let me up immediately I got hot and frustrated and said, “I hate you!” He immediately released me and I watched the playful light in his eyes turn into sadness. He wasn’t harsh but he did get very serious and calmly said, “Never say that to anyone you love.” That was it. He tousled my sweaty head and walked away like nothing happened. That was the one and only time I ever said that to Adam and of course I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be one of my last holidays spent with him. It has remained my most prominent Christmas memory of Adam and I hated *myself* for saying that for many years after he died.
My brother taught me the art of forgiveness. He showed me that a man could be soft, understanding and gentle. He taught me to express love and not hate. For #Day17 of #AdamsActs I sent a long overdue letter to someone that I have genuinely hated. It was not something I did for myself, it was very much out of kindness for them. As I wrote this letter expressing hard-earned forgiveness, I thought of my sweet brother who is #forever17 and that moment when he looked so shocked and saddened that his feisty little sister had quite literally gotten her panties in a bunch.
He held a world of love and wisdom inside him for such a young kid. I’m thankful that he didn’t hold grudges and that he taught me not only how to forgive others, but how to forgive myself.
