The weight of words

The weight of words is a reminder that our language has consequences. A single phrase or sentence has the potential to change the course of a conversation, relationship, or life. It can be a bridge between hate and love. While growing, when we were less experienced, we had thrown words carelessly only to realize how foolish we were a few seconds after. Among the many wrong sentences I've spoken, there's one I always wish I hadn't said, probably where I did, even though I felt it was the right thing at that moment.

After my parents got divorced, they both got married to different people. I was too young then to know what happened but everyone went their separate ways. My grandma took me and my elder brother and my younger brother who was still a baby was raised by my mum and her newly found husband who is our step dad. He raised him like his own and he grew up thinking our step dad was his actual dad because he never showed him any difference. We all grew up in different locations and after a few years my mum asked that I come visit her.

Before my visit my grandma had narrated the story of what happened to me, so I was more knowledgeable than my younger brother who still believed my step dad was his actual dad. So I had one plan while coming, to tell my younger brother that the man he sees as his dad is not actually his dad, with no thought of its consequences. My young self believed I was doing my younger brother a favor by letting him know, but it was unfortunate that I didn't weigh the implications of my words.

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While my step dad and mum were inside, I sat my younger brother down and started by asking him if he knew his real dad. As expected he was ignorant of the truth, so I went ahead to tell him the story I was told and even went further to tell him the man he called Dad, is an Uncle to him. I felt I was freeing him from the cage of ignorance, forgetting that children take in words differently. I believe he was eager to show what he had learned from me and didn't spend much time putting it to effect.

After the evening meal, I thanked my step dad and called him Uncle and my younger brother did the same, calling him uncle. Surprise written all over their faces as they heard him call our stepdad uncle for the very first time. "Who taught you that" was the next thing he said, with no hesitation, he turned to look at me. As if his mind told him it can only come from me. He bent his head and I could sense the pain and anger that suddenly built up within him. My mum looked at me with a grim face. Immediately I regretted my action, If only I knew I wouldn't have told him. The next morning a meeting was held to address the issue, but from that day, there was a change in how he related with us. I couldn't wait to return and I regretted what I told my younger brother with the wish that I could turn back the hands of time.

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