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.