AND SO IT GOES

My brother Jim died.  The EMT's found him in his bed.  We're not certain how long he'd been gone when they found him.  They took him away and sent his little cat to the shelter.  I'm sure she wondered why he didn't wake up to feed her.

It's difficult to write about someone who so deeply alienated himself from his family.  He didn't have many friends.  He didn't make it easy.  Jim was an angry, tortured soul and there aren't many who knew him who didn't, at one time or another, feel the wrath of his demons.

So how do I reconcile this?  The ache I feel inside has lived there for so long because in so many ways, my brother died many years ago.  I just wanted so much more for him than he would allow himself to have.  I wished him so much more love than he was capable of receiving.

I will tell you, though, that there wasn't a cuter little kid on the face of the earth. When we were young, my little brother Jim was dubbed "Jiminy" and when asked his middle name, he would respond "Cricket."  He and I had a special bond and shared a voracious appetite for memorization...we'd perform skits and commercials, me at the table and Jiminy in his "baby tenda" (AKA highchair) believe it or not.  He was precocious and funny and brilliant and mine.

He played the tuba.  He always said he picked it because it was the most misunderstood instrument in the orchestra.  He self identified and majored in music with the tuba and brass instruments as his discipline.  His middle name was Paul and I called him J.P.  Years ago I found a T-shirt that advertised "JP's Tuba Lube."  I gave it to him for Christmas and he loved it.  I saw him wear it often.

So much went wrong for so long.  There's no way to put it into words.  Frankly, it doesn't matter any more.  In the end, he was here and now he's gone.  A moment's sunlight fading on the grass.

We used to go sledding together - his little legs were too tired at the end of a snowy Wisconsin afternoon to walk home.  So on the sled he would sit and I'd pull him, watching the sun sparkle on the snow as it crunched and squeaked beneath my boots.  Bright, white, light.  So, God, I'm handing the sled rope to you now.  The white light is already there.  Pull my brother the rest of the way home.  My heart will follow.

Rest in peace, Jiminy Cricket.  I love you.