My brother, my best friend, my protector

My brother was the one person in life that I knew I could count on. He was there for me before anyone else. There is not a time that I do not remember him not being there. He was older than me by 14 months. We were babies together, he got here first and I followed shortly thereafter. We were children of the mid-fifties and our life was certainly not Ozzie and Harriet or Leave it to Beaver. But we were there, together through anything, friends for life.

We were both born in a bitterly cold state. Just weeks prior to his birth a tornado ripped its way through the center of the city my parents lived in. My mother said it was a preamble to his birth. He came out screaming, and never stopped. Finally when I was born, I began to scream too. We screamed in unison. My mother, being exasperated and worn, took us to the doctor and said if he couldn't get us to stop, she would give us back. She could no longer take the screaming. After many tests, it was discovered, that we were allergic to breastmilk, and no matter what, we were going to scream if that's all we were going to be fed. Our diets we adjusted and we stayed with mom. The parents then moved us to the west coast, to get out of the snow, which my brother couldn't handle either, and there we've stayed. Grown and raised Californians. Not natural Californians, so we don't have to like Avacados, I always say.

Come along and I'll tell youa story or two of him. The guy I loved more than anyone else. (Until of course I met my husband.) His life was short, he died at 32, in a horrible accident. It was the day that the life went out of me in a way. I never looked at life the same again. I tear up as I write, and it was so long ago. Still I miss him terribly and while the pain is not new and sheer, it lingers on. How can it not when someone like him leaves so suddenly?

It was 1985, my husband had just graduated from college. We were waiting for a tax refund check to arrive by mail so we could move to California. The husband had been accepted to graduate school and we were returning home, and graduate school. We had been at the pool all morning enjoying the gift of sunshine that rarely shone in the early days of May in Utah. As we were changing out of swim wear the phone rang. My husband was on the line, his words "Oh no. no. Let me let you talk to the chronicler (me), he handed me the phone. It was my mother, puzzled I asked her what was up? She told me my brother had died in an accident on that road. He was with his oldest son, on a day trip to San Diego. They had been in an accident. It took both thier lives. Crushed, in a moment, of few words, my life was crushed.

Three weeks earlier the phone rang at the apartment. I was in the middle of finals and really struggling with one class. If I got out with a "C" I was going to be happy. I answered the phone, it was my brother, keep in mined he's my older brother and I want to be like him. My life, in my mind, can have no flaws, I am tough, he's taught me to be. So when he asks "how are you?" I lie. I don't want him to know I'm possibly failing a class. We resort to small talk and the excitement of moving back to California, being close to him and his family again. We talked for a few minutes and he said "I know there's something wrong, what is it?" Again, I tell him "nothing, I'm just in the middle of studying and it must be wearing on me is all". He's not happy with the answer and responds "Well, you may think you're okay, but I know something's wrong. Just remember, when you need me, I'm always here and always will be. I love you and you can rely on me for anything. Will you remember that?" I told him I would. It was the last time we talked. Ever. It seems like yesterday.

Now my husband and I go places and do things and mention how much he would have enjoyed being there and doing those things with us. There is a loss. But there is also hope. Because I know I will see him again. With a surety. I know we'll be together again, in the eternities. And boy will we have a lot to talk about.