Dear not heavy brother,
You did not tell me our mother was ill and was about to have an open heart surgery, you called me up one day when i was on the bus in Europe on my way to my Jewish not so great therapist and you informed me our mother was dead.. It was news i never recovered from and if that was not enough, you and my claiming to be mentally ill sister went into our mother’s apartment, even though you swore on our mother’s grave no one will enter the apartment , and took valuables and then you slapped my face so hard it left a red mark and i called the Israeli police and filed a complaint but no one took that seriously, you banned my then boyfriend from helping me by coming into the apartment and then you got the will changed one month before our mother died, you left her to die in a dusty neglected apartment all alone even though she had money, you did not take care of her at all, but you took care of her money , and then you emptied her safe and cynically let me wait outside the bank and came back with one gold chain, deciding that you would go against her last wishes that everything be divided, you decided you needed more and more money and you did not care if the price meant i would no longer wish to call you brother.
This is not just about you, it influenced so many people, my children did not understand why i am unwilling to speak to you and so now that i am living not too far , i recall all those trips to Europe where you skipped my home, all those times i needed a brother to help me as my violent husband hit me, put me in a hospital with an injured foot, threw our children around, broke arms and bit and attacked and no one was there to help me, you were not there to help, you were too busy taking care of number one, using our mother’s fortune to travel in organised trips to Europe to see the Europeans and go back to Israel where you could accumulate your fortune and buy your children golden sport shoes but you lost at the end, not only me but a sort of possibility of going to high places where money does not really matter but being a brother does and so i went according to the Arabic saying “Better a near by neighbour than a distant brother”, i am having my coffee and Maher from Jaffa is smiling and being kind asking “where were you? where have you been? ” and bringing my coffee to the table where i sit and write my thoughts, and feeling Maher understands me so much better than you ever will..you were never really my brother in any shape or form, you were an enemy that pretended to be a brother and so i seek brothers wherever i go, good people who actually listen to me and i believe that no one will ever hit me again, slap me, abuse me or pretend to be my brother because it is with deeds we prove or disproof and words and birth certificates mean nothing.
Tomorrow it is your birthday, 56, the age our father passed away and left you in charge as the male of the family, well, i do not need a brother like you anymore, and i now know you never were my brother, you were just a pretender, someone who taught me who i do not want to become and now i want to find out who i want to be, and i am, every day growing towards that person who does not take but gives. Not too heavy but a brother.