My father was married to another woman years before he divorced her and met my mom and eventually married her and they had me.
With his first wife he had a son that is dang near 20 years older than me.
My dad’s older son was not in the picture at all when I was growing up but when my father was on his deathbed and we were trying to get his estate and stuff settled and make sure my older brother got what was his I had to go find my brother.
My brother is a good man, but I can tell he went through some stuff and was in those streets and had to learn some hard lessons on his own before he got to where he is now. He is from a different era and different background than I am.
We talk every few months now, but due to us living in different cities (he lives 5-6 hours away in Houston), the age difference, and us not being raised in the same house we are not as close as we probably would have been under different circumstances. I love him though and I want the best for him, but I suppose that’s life and life isn’t always a fairytale.