A letter to my Bubba

To my Bubba,

It seems so strange that such a simple nickname can hold such an enormous meaning. You will always be my Bubba in my heart whether you deserve that title or not. When I was small there was no other name for you, but only I was allowed to call you by your special nickname. You were mine. My Bubba.

My Bubba is a hero he’s a leader, he’s a brother, a close friend. You were all of these things and more. For years, I believed there was no better hero than you. Even in my dreams it was you who came and saved me. I wanted every boy that I would ever date to be like you.

You were perfect in my eyes. More perfect than the sister I shared a room with, more perfect than the man passed out on the floor called “dad,” and more perfect than overworked, overstressed, and underpaid mother of mine. You were cool, fun, and not like them… or so I thought.

You had a choice. You and Nancy both. You had the choice to have responsibility or not to… you both chose not to. I was young and I didn’t understand. Neither one of you took the time to explain to me why I was alone… why you went away. If you had stayed you might have finished high school right. If you had stayed your life wouldn’t have had to go down that road. If you had stayed you might have saved me from him.

When you did come back, you weren’t my Bubba anymore. You were someone completely different. My Bubba never gave me those cold stares, or hurtful words. My Bubba didn’t resent me. Our life was better after you grew up. Not because you grew up, but dad had stopped a long while back (I didn’t have to endure it as much as you or Nanc did), and my parents made more money.

I was still a child and you were an adult, and yet I understood better than you. It still makes me cry, the fact that you think I’m personally responsible for your crappy childhood. How could you despise someone who only ever held you in the highest regards?

Even as you turned your life around, I was happily by your side with love and devotion in my eyes, but I was met with cold distain. It breaks my heart to think you hate me and I did think that… I still do. You weren’t my Bubba anymore. That broke me.

I grew up, and I realized that the image I had of you was tinted by my love and child-like admiration. Bubba became Stephen and that’s who you were to me, nothing more. It wasn’t a conscientious effort on my part, but your title died along with my adoration of you.

You got married and had your little girls. I love them with all my heart, and they love me too. Still, I was met with your harshness. You take out your anger and frustration because you know I will always have love for you in my heart. No one ever fully understood the pain you make feel until your last days in California.

It was to be a farewell get together. Our last time with the girls before you left. We took them to Disneyland to spend the day, and the whole time I had to endure your mockery of my life, your resentment of my fortunes, and your ignorance of the pain you cause. It wasn’t until I left in tears that anyone knew, and it was only then that you began to lighten up. It isn’t until much later that I found out that you actually missed your title.

Now you call and just want to chat. Now you treat me more like a fellow human being. It is only now that I start to call you Bubba without hesitation, but I’m still likely to switch between the two. There is a hope that burns within me, that you will earn back your title and be my Bubba again. Only time will tell. No matter what the outcome, never for a second doubt that I will ever stop loving you.

Your baby sister,
HJR