My brother carried me for years when I didn’t know it and kept carrying me after I knew it. An older brother who loved me anyway, even when I behaved in ways that didn’t earn his love or respect.
One who could have remained aloof, indifferent to my failure and suffering, but instead his generous spirit filled the gaps in my skill, kept me going despite my inadequacies. Through it all the lesson was that I had to learn to live in defeat.
From defeat I learned to give love when I was empty. I learned to love those who struck out at me without warning and who took from me when I was already empty.
talk from my pillow 