a boy who hates for people to be sad

When he was little, my brother hated it when other people were sad. He would ask over and over, "what's wong? What's wong?" He'd tug on your hand, your dress, your hair, your heart. He cried when he learned the story of Noah's Ark. He couldn't stand sadness.
As he got older, as we all do, he learned that the sadness couldn't be avoided and quite frequently couldn't be fixed. I'm not going to say how that changed his personality. I can only say how it changed his behavior. He went from the boy who cried harder than you because of your tears to the boy who got angry at you for conflict. Sometimes he got angry at us for fighting, even if the fight wasn't about him. This was learned behavior. I'm not trying to get all extra-personal on all of you.

I saw this picture on his blog, and it was preceded by a gripe about the start of the American holiday season. It made me sad. If I were home, I would go lay down on my big cozy bed with my big cozy dog and sob for a while. Before he'd go to bed, my brother would find some reason to come in, or just to say goodnight. 45 minutes later, I'd have laughed, shared, and bonded once again with my bro. I miss those times. I miss his distracting sense of humor. I envy his tireless determination. I wish I still had that naive desire to give and give and give. I just want to be comfortable and healthy and unhurting.

Cheers to not being sad or sick (I have an uzhastno sinus infection and don't have the energy to make myself some tea, let alone work. I'm hoping my colleagues don't think I'm playing hookie and come give me help. We'll see if that happens) and strange pictures of people in the hand of my brother. BTW, check out his blog, there's a link over there -->