I had my headphones on watching a documentary in bed on finding Noah's Ark. I think I was officially asleep but still listening when my phone lit up. My brother in law was visiting. We had seen a movie that night and spent time talking before bed. A phone call after midnight is never good news and something I've learned to dread.
I had strong faith that brother would win his fight with cancer. He was only using alternative treatments and the disease progressed quickly but not so fast that he didn't go through agonizing pain, and without the aide of any pain killers whatsoever. His personal choice. He fought so many battles in his lifetime. It is no wonder that he found comfort and strength in the martial arts, in the love of children, in things based on solid ground.
I've never been fond of these generic terms we use. Like, Man, he really turned his life around. I'm not sure it's an accurate enough representation of the process as a whole. I believe he started a long time ago to begin living and being his best each day. I'm sure he had multiple failures along the way. And he made intent to do certain things and then completed them. The past was dead to him and he only desired to live in the moment we were in. But he kept waking up and honoring that commitment again, and again. There is no doubt in my mind that he will live now in an ever lasting peace.
On purpose or not, he has been a huge inspiration to me. Another word I have sneery issues with but it does fit. He was full of inspiring actions. He became such a man that you saw the deep loss in the faces of his grand kids. Children grieving. That is something one can never forget seeing, nor do we see often. So beautiful and yet the saddest thing ever.
Words fail at describing the affects of losing brother. It comes slowly in bursts, in soft waves. We weren't close in the traditional sense. I always thought of my two older brothers like rock stars. I knew David like a secret distant fan. In my heart he was this amazing transformation, proof that good wins, this idea that one can beat misery. When I did get to talk to him, I hung on each word and then sorted them later looking for clues and more insight. His struggle for me was symbolic of much of the deep pain that runs through many folks who see and understand hard truths early. Seeing him turn that into love and accomplishments, strength and courage taught me more about life than these whole last years of searching.
I know he would hate being idolized. I will just say that he is special. He became extraordinary. Way back when in Fort Wayne, when he still lived at the house and he was on, cracking mean jokes, making fun of his awkward stuttering little sister, his smile told me hundreds of stories in that one moment that I will never forget. And that was all I ever needed to know about brother Lobo, that was enough.
Rest in Peace dear brother
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Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?