The Rough Draft in Understanding the Unthinkable

I’ve been asked to speak at my brother’s memorial. Writing the tribute has been tough, but here’s the rough draft:

“Brother and sister relationships are unique. In many ways, [Brother] and I were opposites. We shared creativity, yet it was different. We bonded over music and split over architectural style. Every crease of his attire was razor sharp, I’m more concerned with comfort. But our growing up years, with all its experiences, good and bad, bound us together and taught us to appreciate each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It was always my youngest brother and older brother pairing off, and us two middle siblings on the other side. It wasn’t an acrimonious thing, but sort of a natural division.

[Brother] had a string of girlfriends from nursery school on, yet loved his guy buddies, as well. He collected people the way tourists collect shells on the beach and treasured each one. These were not shallow friendships, either. [Brother], as all [our last name] do, sought out what made each person unique and found common bonds. If he couldn’t find one, he’d make one. He was equally comfortable discussing shoe styles as he was basketball.

When people say to me, “Connie, you are so passionate” about this topic or another, I tell them, “Wait until you meet my brother!”

[Brother] had my mother’s nose and my father’s hands. He had my mother’s creativity and my father’s talent for business.

[Brother] was a ball of energy from Day One and yet he was always gentle and kept his heart wide open. An extended family member, after having been scooped up by [Brother] for a day of shopping and pampering at a spa, described him as being a whirlwind that comes in, spins you around, and then drops you to move on to the next encounter.

[Brother]’s passing signals the passing of shared memories. My memories of him range from climbing backyard trees together to taking him to his first day of Kindergarten to discovering baby bunnies that turned out to be baby mice in the sand dunes of our beach cottage. No one else will remember that magical summer day we spent eating apples as fast as we could and then running around the yard, pelting each other with the cores, yelling “Apple core, who’s my friend?” and dissolving into laughter. No one else knows that he called his stuffed animal HUNKELBERRY Hound instead of Huckleberry Hound or that his favorite book was Doctor Dan because it had cool bandages in the back of the book. Even back then, he was a ladies’ man and admired Nurse Nancy, so he read my books, too. No one else will remember that I took the rap when Dad saw the smoldering cigarette and assumed it was mine.

[Our family name]’s tend to be complicated people. It is a testimony to our parents that we [our family name] children are/were all highly creative, friendly, well-spoken, and empathetic. [Brother] would often reminisce about our childhood, describing it as idyllic, which wasn’t always true, but he only saw the bright side of life.

In many ways, he was right. Our parents encouraged us to expand our vocabulary. In our home, if we misused a word, our parents would correct us and praise us for the attempt and when we reached beyond our limits and succeeded, they were downright ecstatic.

Our parents made history come alive, from family field trips to museums and historical sites to animated stories and recreations of Lord Nelson’s battles. Our summer home was filled with parties that included local actors and actresses. When you recall [Brother]’s talent for entertaining the room for an entire evening, you now know he came by it honestly.

As teenagers, we ran [Florida] Beach and hung out in the parking lot each night with our friends. As young adults, we attended each other’s parties and lived through my boyfriends and all the drama that goes with it and the rise and fall of his first marriage. Fortunately, I got to sit out the disco years while [my husband] and I focused on raising children, but [Brother] was quite the dancer in those days. [Brother] lived for a time in New York City, working for Brooks Brothers eastern seaboard division, returning to Tampa for a position with XXX, and eventually opening his own business with his wife [SIL].

We dealt with our parents’ alcoholism together. We buried our Dad in the 70s, cruising in his Lincoln up to the beach cottage, singing “Bye, bye Miss American Pie” the whole way. When we got there, we walked the beach as we’d done over the years and later that night, built a fire in the fireplace and sat there, drinking beer and talking about Dad. A year later, we were partying together yet again, this time at my wedding. He became my sons’ uncle and [Brother’s son]’s father in the 80s. I was proud of his praise for our parenting skills. His opinion of me mattered, as mine did with him.

As happy as he was in those days, when [Brother’s wife] entered his life in the late 90s, the capacity for joy expanded. He was so nervous about marriage, though, that he insisted on a small wedding: him, [Brother’s wife], [SIL]’s Best Man and [Brother]’s Best Woman as witnesses, and the person who married them. The rest of us got to wait at his house, sipping drinks and eating appetizers. Several men opined that it was the best wedding they’d attended in years! The strength of [Brother] and [SIL]’s marriage has never wavered, despite the blows he suffered.

In the 90s, we buried my youngest brother, Guy, together and our mother in the early 2000s. He was as devastated as we were to lose our son Nick two years ago. In March of this year, our eldest brother, Mark, passed away, and [Brother] was unable to mourn him properly because getting upset set off muscle convulsions. The last cruel blow came when he realized he wasn’t well enough to leave the hospital to attend Mark’s memorial, so I spoke for him as best I could, but I think we all knew it should have been [Brother].

In true [our family’s name] style (some have muttered “arrogance” from time to time), if [Brother] thought your outfit was hideous, he would not hesitate to tell you how you could improve yourself. It was never criticism, though. [Brother] saw it as encouragement.

He was quick with a compliment and even in his last month, when he struggled to talk and gasped for breath, he looked up at an attending nurse and said, “Girl, you could slice through a steak with those razor sharp eyebrows!” By the time he was done praising her eyebrows, the nurse was positively glowing as she left the room.

[Brother]’s talent for art was encouraged early on. Private art classes and summer courses at art institutes were a part of his school years. After high school graduation, he attended XXX School of Art in Boston and later transferred to the XXXX. Most of his adult working life was grounded in the art world, beginning in display and later in design, creating projects for Disney sets, children’s libraries, and museums. The very hotel we sit in today bears [Brother]’s touch.

Even though he worked long hours, he still found time to create for pleasure, exploring and conquering pointillism, oils, and even little tiny squares of colored tissue paper that magically becomes a palm tree under his hand. Many here today have a painting or sketch drawn with [Brother]’s eye for overall effect and detail.

I think it would please [Brother] greatly if, as a part of the legacy he leaves behind, we all explored our creativity and I encourage you to do so. Pull out that box of pastels, start that sculpture, pen that poem, take that photograph and let the world reflect the beauty within you. In doing so, you will honor [Brother]’s life.

At our brother Mark’s memorial last month, I said each generation carries forward the stories of their ancestors. Whether you believe as I do that [Brother] has only moved from this world to the next, reunited with loved ones who have died, or you believe, as my son does, that we are all just particles of energy surfing the Milky Way, or somewhere in between, you help us keep [Brother]’s spirit with us when you tell us the stories and send us the pictures that capture [Brother]’s essence. I thank you in advance for each one you choose to share.