This is a long, still ongoing series where I pretty much tell about my whole childhood and especially about my brother, Johan. It's much a story about love and family, but it also focus quite a lot on the spankings I got throughout my childhood. But most important: it is a story about true love, about life and what makes life worth living.


I am going to tell you a true story, the true story about me and my brother. It is a story about family, love and life. A story about everything that makes life worth living.

My big brother Johan had to take over all responsibility at young age. He was just 18 years old when our father died, and Johan became my legal guardian. Johan is fourteen years older than me. Thus, when our father died, I had recently turned four years old.
At the time I guess I saw Johan as an adult, a fully grown-up. In my eyes he was "big". But if I look back now in hindsite, I do understand that it must have been an extremely heavy task for him, just eighteen at the time, to suddenly turn from a brother to a parent; because that was what he had to do.
Our mother died in childbirth when I was born. After about two years, dad remarried a Brazilian girl who, however, betrayed him and moved back to Brazil. This was a hard stroke to dad, and he got sick and poor. A heart attack took his life just after my fourth birthday. And there was Johan, just 18 years old and now the legal guardian of his four-year-old sister.
When I talk to my brother nowadays I do understand how tough the situation must have been for him, and how hard the demands on him from the society were. I also understand how much he loved me. For he fought for me, all the time. He fought for the right to remain my legal guardian, and he made everything he could so that relatives and authorities would not get the idea that he was an unfit guardian.

Johan fought for me. He always fought for me.