Memories Of My Brother, Part 2

I spoke of my brother Jim's death a couple of days ago, and included a few memories of him, of the times when we were growing up and when we were grown.

But at those times when family is talking about death and loss, and funeral arrangements, these talks also bring up so many memories, in every family member, about the person they all lost. And so often, those memories, as they all are shared and pulled together, start to bring more life, and color, and depth, to the unique person we all loved, and knew only facets of.

Sometimes those shared memories remind us of things we can't believe we had forgotten! Sometimes the memories one person holds are memories that only they have, of times spent with the person now gone. The rest of us were not there to see. And when those are shared, it is a great gift!

Our cousin WendiBeth shared one of each of those kinds of memories with me, just in Facebook chat. She said she didn't mind if I shared them, and I want to. They are both priceless.

The "I can't believe I forgot about that!" memory is quick, and I'll do that first. The second, the "I wasn't there to see that" memory is so priceless that I'm saving that for last. 

I can't believe I forgot about his little-kid fascination with turning furniture upside down! [Guffaws and giggles!!!]
Chairs, ottomans, if he could manage to flip it over, or even onto it's side, he was so extremely toddler-proud!
Mom would just wait until he went to bed, and would right things again. In my early elementary years, I even helped sometimes with the fix. But I had forgotten....

WendiBeth's second memory, the one that only she and her Mom, now gone, were there for is so priceless that I am just quoting her with her permission:

"He came to stay with us in Denver once. He came the day we were in the middle of a move to a new apartment. With picking him up at the bus station and then having to take time for a couple of trips back to find his lost luggage, our move was completed at about 12:30 AM and Mama and I had to be at work the next morning so unpacking was out of the question. 

We left Jim the next morning with instructions to "Please don't stress over this... We will get it all sorted out when we get home." Well...we came home and everything was unpacked and organized, he had found a tablecloth and ironed it and put it on the dining room table. He also took a walk in a nearby field and picked wildflowers, brought them home and arranged them in a vase on the table. He had cooked dinner AND baked brownies for dessert!!!! 

I could use him now!"

My brother has left this world.

Maybe on the 24th, or late on the 23rd, or early on the 25th....

The kind neighbor who hadn't seen him helped to find him.

James Lewis Peck.  

The genealogist in me says "8 Feb 1955 - abt 24 Dec 2016". 

The sister in me says "What a funny, complicated, caring, struggling, warm yet frustrating brother he was". 

So many memories....

We have been pretty much out of contact for... a long, long time.

Not because of any rift. Just because of a great many years of 'drift'. We have both been self-involved and have been working to get through life day by day, in different states. And in those day-by-day distractions and struggles the years quickly can get away from us.

I was the eldest, and he was my first baby brother. I was about 4 when he was born. We were both adopted as babies by a wonderful couple, Lewis Peck and Martha Hoover. And a bit more than a year later, Lew and Martha had our youngest brother, John.

Jim's birth mother had been prescribed methamphetamines for facial neuralgia back in the day when they had little knowledge of that. So this was in his system, in utero, and he was born into a hell of cold-turkey withdrawal as a newborn. 

But Lew and Martha adopted him anyway, knowing that there could be impossible-to-define damage. There was indeed brain damage that resulted in cognitive and behavioral problems. 

They did everything they could to get the best advice and help over the years, and they managed to give him a decent, pretty high-functioning life. They truly loved him. They loved us all. 

I was afraid I had killed him when he was a toddler! We used to play 'timber!!!!!!' in the huge dog enclosure with a 6 ft fence post we could barely hoist up. And he dodged the wrong way.... Luckily, he had a thick skull. Lots of blood in the bathtub, but our outwardly calm mom and some stitches fixed it.

When he was a preteen, we moved to a new house, and the kids got to pick the colors for their room. He chose orange and green. It looked like he was living inside a pumpkin, but he loved it!

When I was a single mom in the 1970's recession, and badly needed a job, he introduced me to a friend of his who was hiring, and I became the straight manager of a neighborhood gay bar. Friendly place. Fish fries with hush puppies on Friday evenings. Limited but tasty lunch menu. And a ton of nice people.  He had some great friends. Because he was a good friend....

He had a good heart. He always had a good heart.

I hope Mom and Dad were there to hug you when you 

arrived, Jim.

I'll be looking for you when I do.