Saturday night — Kamala Harris and Joe Biden had just given their speeches as official Vice President and President-Elect.
I was at a friend’s place in Brooklyn celebrating, and it almost felt normal. World pandemic and Donald Trump aside, here, right now, at this moment, things were okay. We cried, laughed, danced, sang our hearts out. The emotional rollercoaster of 2020 — of the last 4 years — all culminated into Saturday night. One. Giant. Exhale.
In midst of all the celebrating, I received an unexpected call from my brother.
“Hey B, What’s going on?” I answered.
Expecting to hear mirroring celebrations on the other end, he was, to my dismay, crying uncontrollably. Let me tell you something about my brother — he is not one to emotionally express his feelings, so I immediately took the call outside to make sure everything was okay. I can’t tell you the last time I heard him cry.
“Man, I can’t stop,” he muttered, suppressing sobs between each breath. “I had to go into another room. I just need someone to talk to.” He was with a group of friends celebrating that night too, and the unprecedented nature of the election got to him. I completely understood how he was feeling. Everything felt light but heavy at the same time.
We spent the next twenty minutes confiding our deepest anxieties and fears and spoke of hope, changing perspectives, and our north star as we brace ourselves for this next chapter.
It’s probably one of the most honest conversations that I’ve ever had with my brother and a moment that I will never forget.
Before we hung up to go back to our respective celebrations, I made sure to say I love you. And for once, he said I love you too. I walked back inside wiping the tears from my eyes, a smile on my face.
