In Honor of my Other Brother

And so it has come to pass, my older brother, David (here with his 2 kids Joshua & Rebekah), passed just 2 days after Red and I am slogging through the grief and occasionally falling on my face from the weight of it all until the jokes started . . . as follows:

I am talking on the phone to my niece and my Doberman runs past me with a dead mouse in her mouth - right into the house, right up on my bed; I'm screaming and running from her and she is chasing me;

Followed by the lawn mower which ran so well for the past month, won't run at all & the new trimmers I just bought keep getting stuck;

then, a bunch of frogs take up residence on my screened in porch & the Dobie spends all night barking at them;

and, last night, a chamleon keeps me up most of the night running across the wall above my head causing my Dobie (80 lbs) to dance on me repeatedly.

OK guys, quit it  . . . and yes, I can still hear you laughing . . .

Such Sadness

Since February 2011, I have watched (from a distance) my brother deteriorate from multiple cancers and today he left this world for another one.  My other brother is also deteriorating from a spinal injury and will soon join his brother.  I am to be the oldest of the children after 48 years of being third from the top and I am so sad.  For my first 5 years, my 2 brothers raised me, protected me and provided for me and my youngest sister.  They were my link to memories of my mother who walked away in my fifth year and never returned.  For the next 6 years they tormented and harassed me, but always with the jokes.  We would sit around the kitchen table, tell jokes & one liners and laugh until we cried.  My Dad was the ringleader of this band of merry men.   When I was 11, my brothers left for the Army and we rarely saw each other but when we did, we would laugh like maniacs as if we were never parted. 

The party has moved to heaven now and the 3 boys (Dad included) are probably going to torment & harass me from a far until I join them.  I can picture you Red leaning down from the top bunk and pretending to be the windshield wipers on my glasses while I cry.  Miss you bro.