PRIDE

I really should be more consistent with these, but in keeping with the once a year tradition, I decided to come back here. But this time, I think I’ll be more positive, even though I find that more serious topics are easier to write about. I’ve been in a very thankful mood over the last couple of months, being in New York, settling in at work, making some money. There are times when, on the commute back on the C train, or feeling the wind on my face in Central Park on a quiet afternoon, or as I wake up and open the blinds, I realize that I’m living in answered prayers. But no moment over the last few months has made me feel more grateful than 4 weekends ago. On June 30, 2025, I was able to see my little brother cross the stage at his graduation, despite flying in less than 48 hours before and leaving only 6 hours after. But seeing him cross the stage and get his diploma wasn’t why I came. It was the bear hug that we shared early Saturday morning, a representation of him growing beyond my “little” brother into a fully fledged young man.

I remember it took a while for me to adjust to him not being a little kid anymore, which was even harder than normal because I didn’t get to see the actual process firsthand. To be completely honest, I still haven’t fully processed it. When we said goodbye at JFK in August 2021, he was at my shoulder. When we reunited in June 2022, we were eye-to-eye. That was insane. His squeaky, high pitched voice dropped 2 octaves in the time I was gone. I remember seeing him and basically just refusing to accept it. AAfter all, he was still only 13. He was still the same Fortnite-obsessed, know-it-all kid who swore he could beat me in FIFA, football, you name it. So a couple extra inches of height didn’t make much of a difference, and it was easier to accept. He was still, more or less, the same kid that I had left 10 months before. You would think that after not seeing each other for the longest time, I would have more to stories about that summer, but to be honest, it was pretty much the same. We were still in our routine, playing football, FIFA, going for runs, and of course, arguing and fighting occasionally. For the most part, nothing had changed. Sure, our conversations went from solely focused on TV or sports to me (reluctantly)hearing about his girl problems, but it was still the same dynamic we had always shared. So when I went back for senior year, everything was, as far as I could tell, pretty close to how it had always been.

But, some of you may know that while senior year was one of the best years of my life, I was simultaneously going through probably the toughest period of my life to date. You might think that it was because of things like spending a week in the hospital because I decided to work myself past the point of exhaustion or having multiple panic attacks a month because of school, my future, being away from home, or whatever test was coming up. Those definitely felt like the biggest contributors to senior year being so challenging for me, but it’s only as I look back and see the effects that that year had not only on me, but on the people I care the most about, that the rose tinted lens through which I used to see senior year through shatters. Nowhere is that more true than in seeing how my relationship with my brother changed. He’s my built-in best friend, the only person who shares so many experiences that have become lost in my memory, the only person who knows me well enough to be able to calm me down, or push my buttons at the same time. The person who I have loved the longest. Yet, when he needed me, I wasn’t there.

I remember how I used to beg my parents for a little brother when I was younger. I couldn’t think of anything better than to have someone else to play with, someone to take care of, and in my 3 year old brain, someone to boss around. I remember the night he was born like it was yesterday. Grandma was putting me to bed, and he wasn’t born yet, but she told me that all I had to do was close my eyes, and in the morning my life would change forever. I was so excited that the only reason I fell asleep was because I knew that I would get to meet my brother faster. My baby brother. The next day at school, it was the first thing I told my teachers, my friends, anyone who would listen. I had a brother! How cool was that? Grandpa picked me up from school as soon as it ended and it seemed like we couldn’t get to the hospital fast enough. Yet seeing him for the first time made the wait, which seemed like forever, collapse into a split second. I remember looking through the window at Nuttall Memorial, his cot was right by it, and knowing immediately that my world was now better because he was in it.  That was my first thought, I think. My next thought though, was definitely disappointment, because babies weren’t supposed to be so tall so fast. He was going to be taller than me! I won’t lie, my excitement did dip a bit, because how was I going to boss him around if he was going to end up looking over my head? I figured I had at least 10 years before I had to worry about that, and as soon as I found out he was coming home the next day, any worries about him being taller than me vanished.

We’ve always been very different, if not polar opposites. I’m a lot more quiet and reserved, and I’ve always been somewhat shy, but his confidence in social settings is insane. I like to read, he doesn’t. He was always a lot more caught up with everything going on than I was. He’s always been good with girls, I had my first girlfriend at 17. Long story short, you could never mix us up. 

By the time he could talk, I knew that any hopes I had of bossing him around were little more than pipe dreams. He was, and still is, the most headstrong person I’ve ever met. When we were kids, it was over who got to use the fan when it was time to go to bed, or who got the last piece of cake on birthdays. Even now, his confidence in his own perspective and tenacity to get what he wants has only gotten stronger. It’s simultaneously his biggest strength and his Achilles’ Heel. I never thought that he really cared what I thought. I mean, we are so different, and he’s never seemed to lack any self-confidence. Yet, as much as he might be stubborn, and to my face brush off any advice I give him, it turns out my opinion often matters the most. I wish I didn’t have to learn how much he needed me the hard way.

During senior year, I was busy, more busy than I’ve ever been in my entire life, but I wasn’t too busy for family, even though I made it seem like I was. I cringe every time I think about the calls that were answered only with a halfhearted “I’ll call back,” which more often than not, never happened. I was so caught up in my own problems, my own experiences, my own misplaced priorities, that when my family needed to hear from me, I wasn’t there. When it was about my anxiety for a test, or for college acceptances, or for whatever had gotten me worked up, they were always there, yet when they just wanted to hear my voice, I didn’t understand why it was so important to them. I’ll always regret that. But more specifically, I’ll always regret the times when Zach called and I was too tired to answer or I didn’t give him my undivided attention. He didn’t call often, and so I thought that he was doing fine with me being so far away. I didn’t know how much he just wanted me to reach out, even just to let him know that I was thinking of him. I didn’t know that he thought that he would be bothering me if he reached out, even though I can see now that it was my fault he felt that way. At a time when he needed an anchor, I couldn’t even be the sail he needed to help him keep going. So he adjusted, and me coming back again was a different story.

Instead of being gone for 10 months, I was only gone for 9 this time, yet time warped and stretched, and our relationship had definitely changed. Sure, he had grown a little bit, but I immediately noticed how much more independent he seemed. He didn’t seem like he needed me at all. Sure, me being home was good, but it was like having a cousin come to stay for a couple weeks: it’s good to have them around, but you can live without them. I didn’t understand, and in my blindness, I decided to  take his independence, which I forced him to have to develop, as disrespect. 

We had our worst fight that summer, yet I don’t even remember what it was about, all I remember was the anger. It was equal in intensity, but came from  different places. I was upset because he seemed to have forgotten his place, but his anger stemmed from me forgetting mine. 

I didn’t even realize that until our family reunion, where he told me something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. 

“Why do you care what I do or don’t do now? When you were away you didn’t. Sometimes it felt like I didn’t even have a brother.”

I wish I could say that it all clicked in that moment, that his seriousness and independence was a byproduct of my actions, but it didn’t. I had apologized before for not calling more, and I wondered why it was so hard for him to accept. It took a few more months before I realized that I was apologizing for the wrong thing, and that in this case, an “I’m sorry” won’t ever be enough.

I know that now, and I hope that I’ve done a better job of showing him how much he means to me, how much I care about him. I hope that he knows that when people ask me who I would want to be the best man at my wedding, his face is the only one that pops into my mind. I hope that he knows that when people ask me about him, I always talk about how much potential he has, how resilient he is, and how certain I am that he will be successful.

That’s why me going home to see him graduate means so much to me, because I saw how much it meant to him. I left out one last difference between us. I have always found school to be easier than he has. I had no problem doing the Mum-mandated extra practice problems and essays during school holidays, but he would always put in as much effort to avoid doing them, because his skillset was just aligned differently than mine. Sure, grades are important, but I don’t think he know how much I admire him, and how many traits he has in abundance that I wish I had more in myself. I wish I had even half of his self belief. To post himself dancing on TikTok and not care what anyone said, because he enjoyed doing it. To bet on himself to apply for one of the most competitive programs in the country, even when we said it didn’t make sense, and not only get an interview, but get offered a place basically on the spot. I love seeing the way he continues to make an impact on his friends, and how they all love him deeply, but more importantly, it inspired me to be more intentional in how I approach my own relationships. As much him being stubborn has caused many an argument, he knows what he wants, and he won’t compromise for less than what he knows he’s due. I want to be as uncompromising about my life as him. 

But all his life, a grade, an arbitrary metric that is a terrible representation of actual intelligence, is what has been used to compare us. He’s had to have his path impeded by people who want him to be like me, never mind the fact that we have different strengths. Despite the fact that he’s more sure of himself than I am. Despite the fact that there are areas that, while harder to measure, he far surpasses me. 

Seeing him cross that stage, lifted by chorus of cheers and claps, having been introduced by his teacher as “The man himself,” and pick up the diploma he’s worked so hard to get, was a feeling I’ve rarely ever had before. I didn’t have to see it through a YouTube livestream, and send an emoji filled message or video call to be my best attempt at conveying how proud I am of him. When he won his two trophies for getting the highest grade in the year group, what was once the source of painful comparisons becoming the spotlight that showed everyone, including himself, just how special he is. 

He’s worked so hard to become the young man that now stands over me. Countless late nights and moments of self-doubt. But throughout it all he’s remained true to what makes him special, and to see him continue to realize the limitless potential that we all know he has is my biggest source of pride.  

Zach, I have no doubt in my mind that you’re going to be great. I’m sorry for ever making you feel like I wasn’t there, but I’ll always, always be there, even if it means taking two redeye flights (in the middle seat both times!) just so that you know how proud I am of you. I love you bro, and I can’t wait to continue to witness the man you’ve started to become.