Sunday, April 5, 2015

Easter, Death and my Brother James Peace

My brother James Peace died this week. My shoulders hurt. My eyes are sore. My heart broken. The mourning has begun and must run its course. I have tried to write something and quickly stop as my eyes floor with tears. Today is no different. I have written and spoken a lot about how great my parents were when I was a sick kid. I have also written a lot about the care I received as a kid. What I have not been so open about for reasons I cannot decipher is how my brother too cared for me. He had an innate ability to know what I wanted. Silence, a long middle of the night discussion on the meaning of life or cut rough shod over my living conditions. What he did the most though was be a humane presence. He showed up to see me at 8AM, noon, 2AM, 1PM--I typically had no idea when he would show up or how long he would stay. He knew what to bring. News papers, flowers, or a beer. What I knew and what I always looked forward to was his smile. A giant shit eating grin was often on his face. In the summer he often wore a baseball cap. This is the brother I loved. He was a good man and will be missed more than he imagined.

8 comments:

  1. I am so very sorry for your loss. My brother (also a James) died nearly 30 years ago when I was 18 and he was 23, and the pain of that loss, though it has dulled over the years, never quite goes away. Be kind to yourself as you grieve. I will be thinking of you.

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  2. Nothing I can say can ever make this better, but I am still sorry for your loss. My thoughts are with you.

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  3. Am so terribly sorry - felt tears at your description...in many families yours as with ours there is a different love and your comment "He knew what to bring. News papers, flowers, or a beer. What I knew and what I always looked forward to was his smile. A giant shit eating grin was often on his face. In the summer he often wore a baseball cap." made me smile with a sort of memory as to how it was with the girls, Don and I... Good people live by our remembering them by telling our kids about them - so sorry Bill

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  4. I'm so sorry... As others have stated, please be gentle to yourself. We will be here when you are ready.

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  5. I am so, so sorry, Bill. I wrote on your FB wall, "no words suffice," and they don't, but they're better than nothing. Grief is harder than hell. I don't think it ever ends, but the sharp horror of it does fade in time. I'm sure you know that, or hope you do. Still, we suffer these losses and go on. The best advice I have to offer is be as kind to yourself as possible. Virtual hugs to you.

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  6. I'm very sorry for your loss, Bill.

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  7. I'm sorry Bill. Take care of yourself.

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