August 12, 2010. That’s
the night I got the phone call. I had
been on the phone with my brother, Bart, until around 10:30pm talking with him
and my oldest sister, Donna. We were
trying to wrap up the call – or rather I was trying to wrap up the call with my
cell phone pinched between my shoulder and my ear and my hands elbow deep in
the hot tub trying to reach the thermometer which had submerged again. I was basically doing chores while talking on
the phone – anybody relate to that? I
walk around a lot and do other stuff while I’m talking. I’m sure you are aware on the other end of
the line when I’m hammering away on a Harley part in the garage during our
conversation, hoping that reshaping this metal flange will make it fit back on
my bike. But I digress. That night, Donna, Bart, and I were working
on the strategy for taking care of our precious elderly mother who had
Parkinson’s - which was advancing rapidly and taking her away from us. So, as we wrapped up our conversation on this
important topic, I announced I was hanging up...but that I couldn’t touch the
buttons since my hands were wet. So I
told them goodbye and asked them to hangup to clear the line (since I couldn’t
push the button myself) Well, of course,
Bart thought this was funny, so he dragged it out a bit. So, I asked Donna to hang up, we told each
other we loved each other, and click!
Donna was gone. Well, I thought
they were both gone until I heard a faint voice on the other end. It was Bart...and he was refusing to hang up –
I’m sure because he knew it was inconveniencing me just a little bit. I told him goodbye and asked him to hang
up. He said, no you hang up, to
That same phone rang again just after midnight and it was my
brother-in-law Brian, letting me know that Bart was gone. A brain aneurysm burst in the back of his
brain and he was gone almost instantly. I
have thought about that phone conversation many times over the last four years
since his death. And I have come to
cherish those last words we said to each other – words which we said quite
frequently, but usually only when we were leaving town after a visit. But that night, he persisted in asking to
hear the words and I often wonder if he had some kind of premonition that
night. Like he knew something was coming
and wanted to make sure that I got the closure I needed. Who knows?
What I do know is that rarely a day goes by when Bart doesn’t cross my
mind. Sometimes I’m just filling up a
Diet Coke at the convenience store and remembering what an expert he was at
soda fountains and the Diet Coke mixture and which store had the best syrup and
finest customer accommodation in their soda department. (It was a chain in Dallas/FW called Q
something?) Anyway, my point is, it can
be in the purely mundane that I remember Bart and get to stop for a moment and
remember something that made me laugh, or made me cry. And sometimes, I’ll stand there right in
front of the Diet Coke fountain and wish he were there to explain the mixture
to me one more time. Funny, I lost some
weight two years ago and now I actually drink a little Diet Coke – which I would
NEVER drink with him! (Always chose a 600 calorie Dr.Pepper instead). I guess I hafta thank him for showing me how
to drink the lower calorie option – even though back then, I thought it tasted
like crap. LOL.
You know, letting go of your brother is not an easy
road. But you get through it. I spent a week or so in the mountains
recently (hence the photo with Bart’s boys, my nephews at the Harley shop in
Colorado Springs), and got to have a meal and some time with ‘my boys’. That helps.
Talking to Suzi – seeing her life flourish and grow again with her
marriage to Colm and Liam (his son) – and hearing how she has grieved and grown
from the loss encourages me. And it’s
not that they’ve “moved on”...it’s like they’ve learned to INTEGRATE ALL of the
memories into their lives and move forward.
Bart is always in the conversation.
We are unapologetic in talking about the boys’ Dad around them. He will never be forgotten. I see SO much of him in those boys as they
mature and grow. Gabe sounds like Bart
when he prays. It’s awesome. Luke and Nate are right behind him with pure,
sweet hearts and that same passion he had.
All good athletes - big surprise.
LOL.
So, lately, I’ve had an interesting recurring thought: As I see Life happen around me – my friend
Scott being diagnosed with Stage IV Leukemia out of the blue last week for
example – and watch my reactions to how fragile this human life truly is, I
have begun to ponder a new thought. What
if that were me? What if the news about
having a short time to live came to me? And
while in the past, that thought has come and gone innumerable times, I have to
acknowledge I’ve always had some fear around it. It has always scared me to some extent to
think of my own death. I don’t know
why. It was never very defined...and it
wasn’t like a developed thought, as much as just a feeling that sort of passed
through me. Well lately, it’s passed
through me a few times and I have had a new thought. “Hey!
I have something to ask Bart – I’ll just ask him when I see him again!” Like when we lived in different towns, I know
I’d see him soon and save something for that reunion. Then I think of my Dad with his unshaven face
and bad breath kissing me on the cheek every time I left Fort Worth – and I
realize, “Hey! I’ll get to see Dad!” And even Mom...telling me to “be Christian!”
every time I left the house...sounds good to me. I’m not sure when this happens to humans, at
what age we begin to think about who’s waiting on the other side. But I’m finding myself thinking about
it. No, it’s not keeping me from living
life with the same passion you’ve come to know in me. In fact, I think it makes me even MORE passionate
about this life....realizing that there is truly NOTHING TO FEAR in the coming
world. I don’t mean to sound trite, but
I’m remembering a little plaque I used to see somewhere that said, “There’s no
reason to fear tomorrow, for my God is already there.” And my little brother, and my Mom and Dad,
and my tiny, infant brother I never got to meet, and Corbo and Abby Grace, and Maw
Maw, and my two Grand Dads I never got to know...and Granny, and Bryan and my
uncles and aunts and HOLY COW! That’s
gonna be a heck of a reunion, you know? And
I, for one, am WAY lookin’ forward to it.
Love you, little brother, and miss you every day. Thanks for the inspiration your life gives me
– every time I hit the soda fountain, or hear a line from Fletch, or see one of
your homeboys like Eric, or Kyle, or Ty.
We will see you again...and not one of us knows when that will be. But I look forward to it...so save me a Diet
Coke!
