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.