It's been five years since my oldest brother left this earth. I still feel like I could just drive over to his house and see him. He was, after all, a constant presence in my life, although it is true that we didn't visit with each other often. Still, he was always there. I remember as a small child he would protect me against the neighborhood bullies. Yes, there were bullies back then and they were handled in quite a different fashion than today. A taste of their own medicine would be administered! Harold did that on at least one occasion I recall vividly. Following that encounter I was given a wide berth as the saying goes, bully problem solved. Later Harold joined the Navy and off to see the world. He would mail me a Navy periodical " All Hands " that contained a centerfold. Scantily clad ladies giving moral support to the troops. I thought it was quite something. Well, that's what older brothers are for.
Harold was always a big man in stature. He had the personality to match. He could talk on virtually any subject and often would. Nothing meek and mild about him. He was well read and had many talents. He could go from truck driver to Insurance agent in an instant and you would believe that he had done both all his life. Truth is, he did do those two occupations the most. He could do far more than that though, a very versatile and resourceful person he knew how to get by, and often times did much better than that. His knowledge of coins was encyclopedic and he really enjoyed that hobby. He also had quite the collection of Indian arrowheads and other artifacts. I was always amazed by the way he could spot those things. You would walk with him through a fresh plowed field and his eyes just seemed drawn to those things. I have never found a one but he found them in abundance. Well, he always did have sharp eyesight.
Harold was six years older than I and so we grew apart for a while. You know how that is, an older brother and a younger brother tend to butt heads just a bit. The older brother feeling like he knows better, and the younger thinking the same. Family dynamics being tested. We had both gone on our own paths and would occasionally connect. We had all left our hometown to find a place in a larger world. I often wonder about that. What if? What if the family had stayed in that hometown, stayed in close proximity, would we have maintained a closer relationship? I'll never know the answer to that question. For quite a number of years , until his passing, he lived only twenty miles from me. It may as well been a hundred. Seldom did we visit each other. He would stop by when he was in my neighborhood and I would stop by when I was in his. But those visit were too few and too far between. It's true that hindsight is twenty twenty and it's true that one day it's too late. But I still believe our lives unfolded as planned. That's not to say I don't feel a tinge of guilt, a sense of remorse for not having made more of an effort. Fact is, when it comes to family there should be no effort! Perhaps I should have realized, should have felt a greater sense of urgency. Losing a brother, or anyone that you love for that matter, isn't something any of us want to accept. He'll get better, he'll be alright. That's the thought process. It was no different with my sister. I couldn't accept that she was dying either. In some way I refuse to accept either one to this day. They are somewhere just waiting for me. When we met again we'll just take up where we left off, just like always.
I grew up in a family of six. Three are gone now and the years keep on coming. There is no stopping time, no respite from fate. What will be, will be. I do take comfort in seeing the kids and grandkids. Harold raised some wonderful daughters and their children are prospering. The world is going along just as planned. We are here subject to the whims of a greater power than ourselves. But I can't believe it is all a whim, an accident of some kind. I believe it is a part of a larger plan, a structured universe. I miss my Dad, my sister, and my eldest brother. I miss not being able to talk to them, but more so, that they don't answer. Oh there are times when I hear them alright, but it is always as an instruction. I don't hold any conversations with them. Still I'm aware that they walk with me wherever I go. Harold was quite a talented artist when he chose to do so. Well, the truth is, he was a man of many talents. Oh the stories I could tell. He was a man that lived his life, anyone that knew him can attest to that. I admire him for that, I always admired him for that. Life on his terms! And the terms, were good.
Harold was always a big man in stature. He had the personality to match. He could talk on virtually any subject and often would. Nothing meek and mild about him. He was well read and had many talents. He could go from truck driver to Insurance agent in an instant and you would believe that he had done both all his life. Truth is, he did do those two occupations the most. He could do far more than that though, a very versatile and resourceful person he knew how to get by, and often times did much better than that. His knowledge of coins was encyclopedic and he really enjoyed that hobby. He also had quite the collection of Indian arrowheads and other artifacts. I was always amazed by the way he could spot those things. You would walk with him through a fresh plowed field and his eyes just seemed drawn to those things. I have never found a one but he found them in abundance. Well, he always did have sharp eyesight.
Harold was six years older than I and so we grew apart for a while. You know how that is, an older brother and a younger brother tend to butt heads just a bit. The older brother feeling like he knows better, and the younger thinking the same. Family dynamics being tested. We had both gone on our own paths and would occasionally connect. We had all left our hometown to find a place in a larger world. I often wonder about that. What if? What if the family had stayed in that hometown, stayed in close proximity, would we have maintained a closer relationship? I'll never know the answer to that question. For quite a number of years , until his passing, he lived only twenty miles from me. It may as well been a hundred. Seldom did we visit each other. He would stop by when he was in my neighborhood and I would stop by when I was in his. But those visit were too few and too far between. It's true that hindsight is twenty twenty and it's true that one day it's too late. But I still believe our lives unfolded as planned. That's not to say I don't feel a tinge of guilt, a sense of remorse for not having made more of an effort. Fact is, when it comes to family there should be no effort! Perhaps I should have realized, should have felt a greater sense of urgency. Losing a brother, or anyone that you love for that matter, isn't something any of us want to accept. He'll get better, he'll be alright. That's the thought process. It was no different with my sister. I couldn't accept that she was dying either. In some way I refuse to accept either one to this day. They are somewhere just waiting for me. When we met again we'll just take up where we left off, just like always.
I grew up in a family of six. Three are gone now and the years keep on coming. There is no stopping time, no respite from fate. What will be, will be. I do take comfort in seeing the kids and grandkids. Harold raised some wonderful daughters and their children are prospering. The world is going along just as planned. We are here subject to the whims of a greater power than ourselves. But I can't believe it is all a whim, an accident of some kind. I believe it is a part of a larger plan, a structured universe. I miss my Dad, my sister, and my eldest brother. I miss not being able to talk to them, but more so, that they don't answer. Oh there are times when I hear them alright, but it is always as an instruction. I don't hold any conversations with them. Still I'm aware that they walk with me wherever I go. Harold was quite a talented artist when he chose to do so. Well, the truth is, he was a man of many talents. Oh the stories I could tell. He was a man that lived his life, anyone that knew him can attest to that. I admire him for that, I always admired him for that. Life on his terms! And the terms, were good.
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