My Brother

 

About a year ago my brother died. He lived in Framingham, Massachusetts with his wife, and even though we did not see each other often, we communicated via phone. As he wished, I did not know how ill he was because he did not want me to know. He didn't want anyone to know! His thought was that he would then be treated differently, and he wanted me to remember him as he had always been, my big, strong, healthy brother! 

I had no clue that he was dying of cancer or that he was on the verge of Alzheimer's. On the phone we laughed, remembered, and he never gave me any reason to make me believe that he was ill.  I spoke to him on April 25, 2022, his 85th birthday. It was a ritual we had followed for many years to talk on our birthdays. For me it was a normal conversation so when I received a call telling me he had passed away, it was a shocking surprise! He died on May 15th, five days before my birthday. I would not be getting a call from my brother and that saddened me. The only consolation I had was that now he was with my mother, father, brother and son. There was no closure for me because there was no funeral. His wife followed his instructions, he was cremated, and his ashes would be sprinkled in the ocean, a place he loved. Happiness for him was being on his boat sailing the sea!

Yesterday, on what would have been his 86th birthday, I missed my brother more than usual. How I would have liked calling him to chat about our lives. He was the last person that would remember how life was as we grew up. Now it's what I remember, and no one can question my memories! But maybe that's okay because our memories never matched. What he remembered, I didn't, and what I remembered, he didn't. It's funny how two people growing up in the same household will have different memories! It was fun when we both remembered the same thing and we could laugh about those memories! 

Growing up we led two different lives. He played baseball but my parents and I never went to a game. He drove to high school and would not give me a ride unless my mother forced him to take me even though we were at the same high school. His friends were not my friends. I liked reading and he didn't. He was an artist and no one knew until there was an article in the paper. He never told us he was the art director in painting a large mural on the cafeteria wall. He won an award for his work on the restaurant called the Sobriety in Larimer Square.

He left home to sell magazines and then entered the Army. He purchased a rosary in Italy and had it blessed by Pope Pius XII for me. On his return he lived briefly in our Denver home. He went to art school, got married and moved to California. From California he moved to New York got divorced and remarried. I look at some of my black and white pictures and see that we are running through the hose in our front yard or sitting on a large rock in the mountains. I do remember many family picnics in the mountains!

When we visited each other, we hugged but never said we loved each other. It wasn't customary in my family to say the words, I love you! I knew we loved each other, and he showed his love by loving my children. Yesterday was a difficult one for me because so many memories flowed through my head and now he is gone forever! I realize that when he died, he took a part of me with him!

The last time I saw my brother was for my son's funeral. There was a special bond between my son and his uncle and now they are together in heaven.

"You went away so suddenly

we did not say goodbye,

but a brother can never be parted, 

precious memories never die!"

Author Unknown