Leaving me in pieces

There’s a moment from Christmas Eve that keeps replaying in my mind. It was late, almost 2 am, and my family was awake playing a game that Reem had gotten for us.

I had been laughing and enjoying the time with my most-loved, but I started feeling pretty terrible. Just the previous day, I had slipped on ice and cracked a bone in my elbow. I laid back on the floor, propping my head up on the edge of the couch. I stopped engaging in the game’s debate, simply tossing in my contribution on the table and laying back down.

We finished up the game. As they all started moving I found myself paralyzed and tears become pools in my eyes. I was in a lot of pain, generally frustrated, and codeine sickness was creeping through my belly. Words of concern came from my parents; support was abundant, but it just made the tears come faster. My dad helped me stand up and I tried pulling myself together to little avail.

It was that moment that my brother Emil turned back slightly from walking out of the room and expressed sympathy asking simply, “Oh, Sara! Do you need a hug?”

Feeling so vulnerable, I didn’t even meet his eyes. The moment passed quickly and when I didn’t respond he continued walking out.

It was exactly what I needed and wanted, not to mention an unusual expression of love from my brother. We just don’t usually connect like this.

A couple weeks later now, I replay it over and over in my mind. Instead of letting my eyes drop and tears fall on my pajamas, I look up into his eyes and allow myself to be enveloped by his 6’4” body. This time it’s his shirt that absorbs my tears.