A tribute to my brother

My brother passed away last weekend on Sunday morning…he just slipped away in the night without saying good bye to any of us. I had told myself it could happen at any time since he had underlying health issues with his heart. He had had some mini strokes, the doctor said. His future was heading towards having a scope run down his lungs to sample a tumor, with possible followup of chemo and radiation….not the most fun in the world. He had already been through a lot. He had earlier gone through a round of radiation treatments for another lung “spot” diagnosed as some kind of cancer. He had gone through an intensive time of healing of an injury on his leg that occurred the day after Christmas. In the hospital, out of the hospital, back in…therapy, etc., etc. But the leg seemed to be finally on the mend with pictures texted to us of increasing healing after they had removed part of the tendon that was showing. Everything seemed to be on the upswing.

He was getting around well, just using a cane, and even went to a family event in the extreme heat the weekend before with all of us. He was in a lot of pain and had been for some time. I’m sure he is enjoying Heaven now.

He was my younger brother by sixteen months, the one I fought with and wrestled with when we were kids, but always looked out for as much as possible. That’s what older sisters do. They take care of those younger than them. I realized I was still looking out for him when he showed up at our house one year in the 1990s on his way to Texas. He had been drinking….I was concerned. But he made it there and back, sort of like the cat with nine lives. He had drank heavily and used illegal drugs for much of his life. I suppose he was trying to escape the trauma that had come to us as young children when our parents essentially abandoned us….but our grandparents did not. Our father disappeared and was never a part of our lives as we grew up, having his own emotional trauma which he treated with alcohol. Our mother was immature and unable to be a single mother taking care of two children. It was the 1950’s…women weren’t able to get good paying jobs. Our grandparents saved us; I thank God for them. They refused to lose us to our parents’ inabilities. A sister by another father was born seven years later and my grandparents raised her too for a time.

My brother was a skilled craftsman in carpentry. I’m not sure where he learned it, but he excelled at it and was very particular about the work he did. He wanted it done properly. He told me one time his favorite work was to make furniture. I suppose he loved the ability to be creative. Some people, I’m sure could not work for him, not having the same attention to details that he did. I’m sure he yelled at those who showed little concern for doing it the right way. He was the master builder/contractor for our house which was built in the 90s. He spent four months driving 40 minutes one way every day, except for Sundays. He made special hickory window sills and trims for our home, planing the wood himself.

His wife and caretaker called last Sunday morning to give us the news. It was a shock, but not a shock, if you know what I mean. Like I said previously, I had settled it in my mind that it could happen at any time, but hoping he might be with us a lot longer too. One just never knows. He was improving as far as the leg injury goes. He was up and around. I know he still had pain in his joints and such and that was heartbreaking as he seemed to get no relief from it, no matter what drugs he was given.

I have mused this week about how he could just quietly slip away like this…no fanfare, no struggle, no pressing the Lifeline alert that he had on. It occurred to me that in cases like this, at the end, your leaving is like a secret thing…it’s just you and God. No one can know exactly what is going on…it’s between you and the Creator. We all need to make sure that we know Him, our Creator, the One from Whom we came…and the One to Whom we will return.

The day before he passed, my brother sent a meme to us. That is how he expressed himself much of the time, sending us memes that expressed his thoughts, his opinions, jokes, and events of the day. As I later considered the meme, I wondered if it was almost prophetic….it was a picture of the statue of liberty, but she was sitting down on a building in New York City, as if in despair, with a bunch of empty beer cans around her; she was smoking a cigarette. The caption said “Fk it, I’m moving to Florida.” It’s the last thing he said to us.

Fly high, dear brother. I am relieved your pain is over.

James 4:14 “…whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and vanishes away.“