This morning my brother lost his battle with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. He passed at 9 in the morning with his family and the mother of his 11 year old daughter by his side. He left us knowing that he was and will always be loved by the brothers and sisters he left behind as well as the many nephews and nieces that loved and cherished him for the short time on earth he had with us. He missed his 31st birthday by two weeks.
A few things that most people knew about was that he was the first to help you move your furniture when you needed it, the first one to help with the most mundane of anything. Mr. Minimal, no name brand, basically economical. For the last 18 months, he lived with me from the time he returned from Ohio.
The reason I say economical is because he would yell at me for spending 20 or 30 cents too much. This was someone who insisted I picked up his boxers and sweatpants from CH Martin, which is like a discount store. He didn't need Reebok or Nike sneakers. As long as they fit he was fine.
He was also different because he was the only one I knew who loved the Atlanta Braves baseball team. Unusual for someone who was a lifelong New Jersey resident. But being like other people wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be himself.
He was also my hero. He was not ready to leave us. He fought his battle to the very end. His body gave up the battle, but his head and heart never did and never would. He knew what he was fighting and took a chance knowing what the final outcome would be. He was not ready to say goodbye. Neither were we. What I can say on behalf of my family is that we take comfort in the fact that we know he is no longer in pain and is now taking care of our parents.
"You can't have baggage without lifetime guarantees; you don't want to watch me die, I just came to say goodbye love, goodbye love, goodbye love, hello...."
"Goodbye, Love, Hello" taken from Rent
Friday, January 30, 2009
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