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MinWoo

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Just some story i read somewhere.

Thought i just share it here to anyone who is interested?

 

Brothers

 

Decades after his brother went missing, a Reddit user has shared the incredible story of their beautiful reunion and the homophobic parents who kept them apart for all those years.

Told over the course of three Reddit posts, the anonymous brother tells us about his gay brother who ran away from home when he was a teenager and was never seen again. Decades later, he discovers his “missing” brother was alive and that his parents had kept them apart because they did not approve of his homosexuality.

 

Part 1:

I’m trying to write this in a way so that no one will be able to research and find out who I am (or my brother is). But it’s the Internet and everyone’s a super sleuth.

My brother went missing years ago. And when I say “missing,” I mean that his case was declared one of those “creepy unsolved mysteries.” It was on the news. I distinctly remember my parents interviewing for the news in our living room.

I think I know what happened to him.

I was very young when he went missing. I barely remember him, but I do remember that I loved him a lot. He would pull me around our block in a wagon. Most kids his age didn’t do that.

The days before he disappeared, I remember him staying home and babysitting me. I stayed in my room and played Nintendo 64. Throughout the day, a guy came over. I remember him. He was older, almost our dad’s age. My brother made me go into my room whenever I heard the doorbell.

Later, after the guy left, my brother would ask me not to say anything about the guy. With my brain only being focused on video games and extra dessert at that age, I agreed. I didn’t care, nor did I comprehend the gravity of the situation.

The day before he disappeared, I remember the older guy coming over. I was in the kitchen and remember looking up and seeing him kiss my brother. They hugged. They didn’t care that I saw them. The older guy waved at me and I waved back, then I kept watching cartoons.

I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to my brother whispering outside our front door. “Don’t worry, he’s asleep,” he said.

The older guy said something I couldn’t hear. Then my brother said something I couldn’t make out, but I made out the words “visit them” or maybe he said “visit him”? Either way, I know the word ‘visit’ was in his sentence. The man raised his voice and said no. Then I heard “plan” and “city.” Then I fell asleep again.

The next morning–the day he disappeared–my parents were at work. My brother was acting very strange. I remember he kept checking the clock. In the afternoon, I remember him picking me up and asking me if I wanted to go in the wagon. I was too hooked on Nintendo 64 and said no. He almost begged me and I said no again. Then he told me he had to run to our neighbor’s house for something, I don’t even remember what he said. I said okay. He reminded me to not open the door for anyone, only mom and dad. I shouted at him “OKAY!” because Super Mario was getting on my fucking nerves and he wasn’t helping.

He gave me a hug and told me he loved me and left. He never came back.

All these years–decades–later and I think he was in love with that man. I know he was. The memories randomly came flooding back to me earlier, I’m not quite sure why. But it has been taking over my thoughts lately. I can’t sleep because I keep thinking about it.

I think my brother left with that man and they ran away together. Or maybe something worse happened. But I don’t think that’s the case.

My freshman year of college, I was part of a sports team that got national recognition. I remember my team’s picture was on ESPN and with our university’s name. A few days later, I got mail at my dorm. It was a gift basket. I thought it was from my parents, so I didn’t read the card. I threw it away immediately and ate what was in it, but it was nothing but candy. Nerds, jolly ranchers, Tootsie Rolls and Hershey’s Kisses. I called my dad and thanked him for the gift basket and he said he didn’t send one, neither did mom.

Then I got to thinking: all of those candies were what I used to eat as a kid. Literally all I ate for the earliest years of my life were those candies. I tried to find the card, but I couldn’t. Then I began to think about how my brother would wheel me in the wagon to the gas station close to our house so I could get candy after dinner, even though it was a punishable-by-death “no-no” from mom.

Months later, during Christmas, I got an unmarked Christmas card. The only thing written on it was a smiley. Since then, I’ve heard nothing. No one I know sent that card. I have never responded.

I wonder, every day, if he’s out there. I have never told anyone this. When the police asked me what happened that day, I told them that he went to the neighbor’s because that’s all I remembered, honestly.

It destroyed my parents. My mom became addicted to pain killers and my dad has had three extra-marital affairs (which, I know this tragedy is no way an excuse to cheat, but it sure didn’t help). It has ruined our family, and maybe my brother knows what he did. Maybe he regrets it and knows he can’t come back home.

But if I could see him today, I would just want to tell him that he is always welcome in my home. I love you so much, brother. We have so much catching up to do. Please come home. Please.

 

 

Part 2:

It’s 4pm and I’m drunk lol

These past few weeks have been insane. I posted on here before….my brother went missing a long time ago. I thought he ran away from home. Long story short, I got into contact with some detectives that our family has known since my brother went missing. When I started asking questions, they told me that my brother was no longer on any missing persons registry. When I asked what that meant, they told me that he was removed per my parent(s) request.

I asked my parents–my dad, actually. My dad ignored me. My mom told me my brother is alive and okay (“as far as she knows”). They found my brother years ago–a very, very long time ago–and found out he was living with another man. He’s gay, and it disgusted my parents. He tried reaching out to them. They told him they didn’t want anything to do with him and that I didn’t remember him and wouldnt’ want to see him…..

I went ballistic. My parents weren’t fazed by it. They sincerely hate my brother for who he is–for being gay. They kept him a secret from me all my fucking life. My brother missed the birth of his nephew, he missed my wedding, graduations, EVERYTHING. just because of my parents. they lied to me.

I’ve been able to get a phone number and contact information from police officers. my brother left it all open in case anyone from our family wanted to contact him. i still can’t work up the nerve to call him. the address i have for him is across the fucking country. but he’s alive. my brother is alive. i’m drunk as fuck right now because i can’t deal with any of this. i haven’t talked to my parents in weeks and i never plan on speaking to them again. not for what they’ve done to me, or my brother.

this is real and it happened. it happened–it is happening right now. i dont know how to process this at all. my parents let me believe my brother was dead or kidnapped forever, when in reality he just ran away and when he wanted to come back they disowned him

im fucking crying right now. how could you do that? fuck you, God. fuck you christians and jesus. idont even know i’m so fucking–i’m sorry

 

 

Part 3:

Here’s an update for you all:
The day after I made my last post, I woke up and called into work. I told my wife (who is essentially my confidant and I tell her everything) the whole story. She wasn’t really surprised; she’s not a fan of my parents much. But like many of you, she told me to call the number I was given for my brother immediately. She insisted on it. She took herself and my son out for a day together so I could be alone to talk with him.

I dialed the number about seven times before I actually pressed the “call” button. It started ringing and I hung up. Then I got frustrated at myself and called the number back. It rang and rang and I got a voicemail, but it was the automated voice, not anyone else’s. I didn’t leave a voicemail. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. I called my wife and told her to come home and she refused until I had talked to someone on the other end of the phone.

About an hour of pacing and drinking two glasses of scotch at 1 o’clock in the afternoon, I called the number again. It rang three times. I panicked. I hung up. But this time, the number was calling me back. I swear to whatever God(s) above, I thought my heart was going to stop. I almost threw up right there. I answered the call.

 

 

The first thing I heard on the other end of the line was a guy laughing in the background. There was wind on the phone. The person on the other end was outside and it was windy. “Who is this?”

It was his voice. I knew that voice. It was my fucking brother. My brother! Who had been gone for my entire life! I covered my mouth with my shaking hands and just sat there. He kept asking me who it was. The guy in the background was trying to talk over him. He hung up on me. I called him back right away. He answered again.

Me being a creepy ass, the first thing I said after decades of not seeing him and thinking he was dead, I blurted: “I got your number.”

He asked me who I was and what I wanted. I said, “It’s me.” There was a really long pause. I thought the call had dropped. Then I heard him tell someone to turn the radio down and roll the window up. The sound of wind stopped… and then he asked me my name. I told him and he said that I was lying. I told him I got his number from the missing children’s network and detectives. I heard him gasp. He asked me what color shoelaces he wore to a picnic when we were kids, and I remember my mom getting mad at his orange laces with blue shoes. It was the last time we were together as a family.

I could tell he was crying. The first thing he asked me was: “Where are you?” and I told him I lived a few hours away from home. Without hesitating, he told me, “I’m coming.”

He went straight to the airport without any luggage, bought a plane ticket, and flew straight to me. We stayed on the phone with each other the whole time. When he was walking through the gate, I knew who he was right away. He is middle-aged; salt and pepper hair, muscular. He looks just like our dad, only better. I know if I told him that, that would make him mad.

I literally pushed an old lady out of the way and I just hugged him. He’s about two inches taller than me. He was able to pick me up. He was crying, I was crying. I was having a breakdown. We went to a bar at the airport. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He kept holding onto my arm. He kept telling me how unreal it all was. He apologized to me. He kept crying, telling me he felt horrible. I told him to forget everything and tell me about his life.

He’s married. His husband is a doctor—a pediatric oncologist. They live in the Pacific Northwest. They have two children—girls, 12 and 8. He works as a legal consultant and has his own firm. He has an amazing life. He told me that he thought I hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. We sat at the bar for hours. Literal hours. I think we sat for about six hours before I begged him to come home and meet my wife.

We got home, and my wife was a mess. She hugged him and insisted he stay with us. At this point, his husband was going insane and kept calling him. He had no idea what was going on. He thought he had eloped or something. It was crazy for a couple of days until everything was explained and out in the open.
My son and my brother were like two peas in a pod. Honestly, I never wanted children. My son was an amazing accident, but I’m not good with kids. I’m always afraid I’m going to break them. But my brother is a pro. Kids love him.

He stayed with us for two weeks. And in two weeks, everything about my life changed. His husband and two daughters flew in to stay with us. My brother-in-law and my two nieces. My family. They were my family. They are my family.

My brother wants my wife and I to move to be closer to him. My wife is on board. I work as a professor at a university and have already started to send out feelers to see if there are any open positions, and I’ve found one that is actually tenured and higher pay.

I do not plan on forgiving my parents, but my brother still loves them. He went by their house and knocked on the door. My father shut the door in his face. My mother gave him a hug and told him to take care of himself. Then she shut him out. I can’t forgive them for that. I have no reason to stay close to them. I want to be with my family. I want to make up for all the lost time.

It’s 2am right now and I’m drinking a tall glass of scotch and grading papers. My beautiful, wonderful, smart, amazing wife is asleep on the couch. She likes to watch me grade papers. My son is asleep in his room cuddled up with all the stuffed animals his uncle brought him. And I’m here, so happy, so fulfilled knowing that my family has grown and doubled in size so suddenly. My heart is happy. I am so happy right now, Reddit. I am so happy.

 

 

 

Too fast to live, too young to die.

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To add on..this is a repost i posted awhile ago..thought i'll just share it again..hope someone has something nice to share too =]

 

 

 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

When I was working in Burke’s cafe some years back, a rather average looking boy stepped towards the counter.
“A garden salad, less mayo, a latte and what is your name”
As I keyed in the orders, I suddenly realized,
“Sorry sir?”
“Your name?”
I was shocked from the question, did he wanted to complain about me or was it blatant pick-up line?" I was relieved that he did not looked angry, so…?
“Eric Lim” he answered for me.
“How did you know?” I asked
He smiled mysteriously.
Was it a prank? Is he a friend of a friend who was “introduced” to me?
I noticed his eyes staring at my chest. My chest, while not well developed was leanly toned- but how could he see pass the brown Burke’s cafe uniform.
Then I laughed. There it was, my name, on a white tag, Eric Lim.

“It will take 3 minutes to be already, sir”
“Call me Dex. I ‘d wait.” He smiled at me.
While he was rather average looking, tanned guy, but a tad shorter then me. I can feel a strange charm oozing from that cheeky smile of his.
I smiled back, 3 minutes seems to take forever to pass…until it was disrupted by an Auntie queuing behind him.
“Why take so long one?” she complained.
“I’d sent the orders to you sir,” I said.
“Dex,” he reminded.

I carried the garden salad and latte over to him.
“Latte and your salad sir,” as I placed his orders on his table.
“Dex,” he reminded again
I haughtily told him that we do not address customer by first name basis, here at Burke’s – although there was never such a rule written down.
His hands accidentally (or was it on purpose?) touched my hand as he helped me with the latte.
I swore that I felt an electric shock, when our hands touched.
“I was hoping that I might be more then a customer,” he said.

I smiled weakly at him and returned to my duties (more nervous than dutiful), and at a corner of my eye I was sneaking peeks at him.
“Aiyoh. Not the cherry-banana-Havana cake, it's the Banana-yogurt-Chocolate surprise, and it’s not the coco-green tea- power drink but the Evergreen Aloha Hawaiian energy drink!” complained an excited man with a tie.
“I m sorry sir, I’d change it. And that's less $3.20, for the difference and the total is $23.40” I busied myself with the order that I had messed up.

When I turned around, Dex was gone.
“Hey, Fred, help me with this customer” I shouted at one of my colleague.

The garden salad was half eaten, but the latte was finished to the last drop. I noticed he had left the receipt too under the empty cup. There was something written on it.
“Nice knowing you Eric” it reads “even for 3 minutes”

The next day he appeared again when we were almost closing.
While I busied myself inside the kitchen, Fred told him we had our last order "No more!"
I caught a sight of him- Dex, and I interrupted Fred,“Oh no we are not”
“One last order is OK, we got 5 minutes left” i told the 'customer'
Fred gave me an evil eye, “Ok, you clean up, I going to leave on 11pm exactly. I’ve got a show to catch with my girlfriend”

“What would it be easy for you, for me to order?” He asked.
“That would be a bottle of water?”
We both laughed, “a bottle of water then”
“How long will it take?” he asked me,
“Erm, 10 seconds? Sir” I lied, because i purposely "searched" for a cold bottle of water.
“Dex,” he corrected me, “because we have been friends for 4minutes and 23 seconds now.”
When he opened his wallet I stared at the contents (I admit I m intrigued), there was a small wad of cash, some cards and an 11B displayed on the clear holder of the wallet.
“I got to rush, 2359” he told me after receiving the bottle of water, and left the cafe.
I wondered; there's a 7eleven store just right next door.

The third day he arrived really early, “How long will the Triple-coco-Piloco-blue veined hoco-cheese cake and a anti-detox-good health pineapple with melon and lemongrass shake with additional protein, take? And, oh, your phone number?” he said in one breathe.

The two items were the longest-irritating named in the menu.

“It’ll take 96377730 minutes Sir, I mean Dex”
“That’ll take forever, Eric”, he laughed, while fumbling for a pen.
i passed him mine.

And that was when I met my Knight, Sir Dex, for a total of 36 years, 5 months, 25 day 7 hours, 36 mintues and 17 seconds.

Until a heart attack suddenly claimed him.

While the metal barrel burned with offerings of “gold-paper”, I cast an old, yellow receipt into the burning inferno.
As I watched the receipt and the message burn away slowly.

I said quietly to myself, “it was nice knowing you too.”

Too fast to live, too young to die.

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One of my earliest memories of my dad was when I was 5 and had to go to the doctor to get blood drawn (I had a lot of early health problems - mostly related to allergies.) I was very scared and before we got into the elevator up to the lab, I asked him if it was going to hurt. He got down on a knee, to my level, and he said, "Son, you know I'd never lie to you, right?" I said yes. He said, "Son, yes, it's going to hurt, but don't worry, I'll be right here with you." 

 

Fast forward 36 years - Mine was dying of liver disease at only 65. He had been afraid to go to the UC Davis hospital because "they let them die there." Well, after 10 days in ICU he had gone unconscious and hadn't been awake for over a day. They had done everything they could and I had to make the decision to turn off the ventilator and let him go. My brother and I talked and I gave the doctors the okay and waited with him.

 

While I waited he suddenly opened his eyes and looked over at me. His eyes looked wide and frightened. I leaned on the side of the bed and that day when I was 5 came back to me in vivid color. I said, "Hey, dad, are you scared?" His eyes flickered and blinked - yes. "You know I'd never lie to you, right?" He looked me in the eyes. "Pop, your body is giving out, you're not gonna make it. But I'll be right here with you till you go, okay?" His eyes softened. He looked at me for another moment, then went back to sleep.

 

He passed away about 3 hours later.... That's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

 

From Quora : "What was the last thing you said to your mom or dad"

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  • 2 months later...

Here is one:

 

From reddit originally,

 

Part 1

 

I’m 38, and a single dad to my 13 year old son, 14 in four months. The other day I asked my son if I could borrow his iPad and he gave it to me. After my first attempt at Google searching something I noticed that he forgot to delete his history as a lot of the search terms were along the lines of “I’m gay what now?” etc …
I love him regardless of which gender he loves, in fact when I was slightly older than him I had a few flings with guys, which he doesn’t know about, so I am 100 percent supportive. He has seemed slightly down recently, as in, he isn’t as cheerful as he once was, and I desperately want to tell him that I love him regardless of which sexuality he is.
What are my options? Should I wait for him to tell me? Or should I make a few hints at it?
I’m worried that if I don’t hint at it, that he will be worried about something that he really doesn’t have to be worried about … if that makes sense.
Thanks.

 

Part 2:

“I started off with talking about general media with him, for instance I mentioned how awesome it was that Tim Cook (CEO of Apple) came out as being gay and I asked him what he thought about it and I was completely expecting him to give a typical teenager response like, “Yeah … its good” or something like that but he actually gave me a detailed response. Which I absolutely loved because for the first time in a good while I’ve actually held a conversation with my son that felt really … rewarding,” reported Yahoo!.

This dad’s soft and supportive approach worked and, one night, at the family dinner table, his son told him face-to-face that he was gay.

“I looked at him and couldn’t help myself from smiling, and I told him ‘____, you know I love you so much … right?’ and I got up and gave him a huge hug,” he writes. “I had my arm around him and he was leaning his head on my chest, and all I could think of was that I’m the happiest father on earth right now”, the Yahoo article states.

 

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