The last time I talked to my brother, Joe, he was having trouble with his phone and was going to replace it.
So the next time I call, the number is no longer working. Does he call his family? No.
I dial up Hospice House and leave a message for him to call me or else.
Then I learned he was sleeping a lot lately.
I know what this means.
One of my first jobs ever, at 18, was nurse’s aide in nursing homes. I lasted just over a year. You get attached to people over time. It’s hard on you emotionally.
I witnessed two men die before my eyes that year–one ran from it all night, continually trying to leave his deathbed; the other simply closed his eyes and passed in peace.
My brother has pancreatic cancer. He fought the good fight and beat the odds for a very long time. A wizard with Chevy’s, custom paint and flames, and welding/fabricating. A royal pain in the ass growing up.
That he pass now in peace is all I would wish.
Sleep well, my brother. You have a good heart, albeit a wayward one.
Can’t say it wasn’t a hell of a ride though.
One thing I learned specifically from you, Joe: Never take a Ford to a Chevy man.
I hear you laughing.