You are missed, little brother: The phone calls at suppertime, the hope you spoke of with each new treatment, stories of good nurses and doctors who cared, the tips and gifts you gave to those who poked and prodded, and talked with you during hour after hour of IV drip, the gratitude you shared with me in land line conversations, those years of chemo therapy to treat the BIG C.
I miss your smile and laugh when you told a funny story. About working with the Pasternak’s, and the one about that poor fellow who barked like a dog and actually did. uncontrollably; not laughing at them but with them. The way you rubbed the hump on Mom’s back and told her she needed to have it removed, every time you saw her. The trip from Florida you and your wife made up north to visit all of us, when I thought you had to eat bland food and then you brought (and ate) kielbasa to your dietitian sister.
That was just one year ago. All those miles, stops in Virginia, here in NJ and in Pennsylvania. On the way back south in Gettysburg (where you had kielbasa). No trace of self pity, always on the move. You were just the same. You never changed from that dark eyed, slight and agile child of nine or ten to the suffering sixty some. You brought sunshine, hugs and kisses. As the cancer grew and spread, so did your heart.
Now as I smile through tears, I miss you…