My father just called me to let me know my younger brother David died this morning. As best they can tell he had a massive Cerebral aneurysm sometime early this morning and died almost instantly from it. My dad went into his room and found him laying dead on the floor.
Said he had been having horrible headaches and had gone in for a CAT scan and an MRI just a few days ago.
David has had a life filled with trials and tribulations ever since he got back from his mission in the UK. He has had a degenerative spinal condition that caused him to live in constant pain, for which they were never able to find any real treatment, other than massive pain killers, which bring on a whole slew of their own associated problems.
I never really got to know my little brother though, as we grew up in two different worlds. We only met for the first time when I was 27 in the Army, and have only crossed paths in the last 20 years a few times. David is my half brother with a common father. My mom and dad divorced when I was 2-3 yrs old, and I didn't meet my father and brother till I was 27. And by then David was 20 years old. Because of that and massive distances between I us I have few occasions to ever spend any real time with him.
But this last winter we spent a very rare full day together. He came down to Rigby for a few days for our niece's wedding party, and he was able to spend a whole day snowmobiling with me here in Island Park. That will probably go down as the most time and the most fun we ever had together.
David's journey on earth has come to a close.
He has been called home to a place where his never ending pain will be taken away from him at long last. It's hard for me to even imagine how badly he hurt most days of his life for the last decade.
My little brother leaves behind a wife and 5 young children.
============
Addendum....
I have only one regret, and that is simply that we didn't have a bit more time together to get to know one another. I think, we could have become good friends if really given the opportunity. Of course the impact on his wife and 5 little kids will be profound..
I spoke to my sister briefly, who is understandably much more effected by his loss having grown up with him and living just a few blocks away. I suggested we throw a big party and celebrate his life, rather than mourn his death. She seems surprised, perhaps just in shock from the suddenness of his death?
When I die, I don't want anyone to mourn my passing. I want people to remember the joyous life I had and the good things that I accomplished while I was alive!! I want a party like the 4th of July to celebrate "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED".!!
I want to be buried with a spoon in my hand, because I know the best part is yet to come (Dessert!)
I love my little brother, though I knew him only briefly.
I will miss the opportunity to get to know him better, and go on more rides with him. I think he really enjoyed himself that day, despite the huge pain it caused him.
But I know he was called home at this time for a specific reason, and that nothing happens by chance. Therefor I will rejoice in our Lord, knowing full well that he is in the arms of the Savior, and moving forward with his eternal progression!!
And now may the Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you.
And may God give you His peace in your going out and in your coming in, in your lying down and in your rising up, in your labor and in your leisure, in your laughter and in your tears...
Until you come to stand before Jesus in that day in which there is no sunset and no dawning.
Amen.
===
Thursday morning, July 8th, my little brother (40 years old) was found dead in him bedroom by my father, who found him kneeling down at the side of his bed with his head on the floor and his hands on his head with a look of intense pain on his face as though this head was going to explode. The coroner said the death was consistent with a cerebral hemorrhage. It was quite literally a killer headache.
At 47 I have never lost anyone in my immediate family under the age of 85, so the only members of my family that have passed on, had lived to a ripe old age and passed on from natural causes brought on by age.
I met both my father and brother the same day some 20 years ago when I was in the Army. Since then we only crossed paths once in a while when I went to visit my dad in Montana. On those few occasions we had a generally good time together, but they were always brief and passing encounters. He got married shortly after we met and was busy raising his family, much the same as I was. While I made a real concerted effort to get to know my dad, I failed to put forth the same time and energy in getting to know my brother. And I now find myself deeply regretting that!
Friday morning we loaded up the family and made the trek up to Montana to join the family for the funeral services. It was the first time I had ever been to an open casket funeral, let alone one for someone in my immediate family. It was the strangest thing. There were two separate viewings, one at the funeral home and the other at the church just before the funeral service. No words were spoken at the funeral home, and it was just close family there. While other members of my family that had grown up with David were in tears, I sat there more or less detached from the whole thing. I felt bad for my Dad and his wife, and her children, but I didn't feel any real sense of loss or grieving. Just sat there stoically for the most part.
The next day they moved the casket into the church for a 2nd viewing just before the actual funner service where around 200 people attended. At the end of the viewing they closed the casket before wheeling it into the main chapel room. But as the funeral director closed the casket he walked around to the end and inserted a key that activated a locking mechanism that sealed the lid from ever being opened again. As he ratcheted that key and the lid clamped down tightly something changed for me. Suddenly I began to feel the finality of the loss for the very first time. The sound of that lock was my emotional undoing.
In the chapel I gave the opening prayer for my brother before the service began, and really felt the weight of the whole matter begin to appear. His wife and children had not participated in the previous day's viewing, and now were in the front row and visibly grief stricken. David had 2 teen age daughters, and 2 younger boys. And this was hard on them, much harder than I had appreciated thus far.
My four children and several of the other cousins all went up and sang "I am a child of God", during which David's older son walked up to join them in singing to his father, and then the tears began to flow. My children cried, his children cried, and so did I. Suddenly I began to feel the real loss that had taken place.
My stepsister gave the eulogy as they had grown up together and still only lived a couple blocks apart. It was a loving tribute to a man who I had failed to get to know.
What is it that we regret most in life?
The things we did, that we wished we hadn't, or The things we didn't, that we wished we had?.
For the most part, I am a very happy person who is content with his life. I have very few regrets when I look back on my 47 years. I have been married for 20 years, have a great wife that I adore, 4 wonderful kids that I love dearly, and I am blessed to be allowed to do what I love for work.
But I felt the sting of opportunity lost as I learned more and more about the brother I hardly knew. I was the only child of a single parent growing up. There were no brothers or sisters in my life, only David in my later adult years, and I really had not made the effort to get to know him, or his children very well. Worst of all for me, we had planned on spending a week with my dad at the end of this month, when I would have had plenty of time to hang out with him and finally get to just sit and talk and enjoy his company.
I wonder why it is that we always think we have more time? Perhaps that is the only way to get through life, thinking that there IS more time, that we have tomorrow waiting for us, that there will always be another opportunity to set things right.
When my sister finished his eulogy my oldest daughter and David's oldest nieces all got up to sing "God Be With You Till we Meet Again". And as they sang this lovely song, the pain and heartache of loosing my brother finally came home to me. I cried like I had never cried before.
I cried for the loss of my brother as though he had been a part of my whole life. I cried from the pain and the hurt of having not done all I could have done to get to know him and make him a part of my life.
I wept tears for my father having lost his son, for my sister having lost her brother, and for my nieces and nephews for having lost their dad. I don't think my wife or children had ever seen me cry before.
When the song was over I dried the tears from my eyes and regained my composure for the rest of the day. But for those brief few moments I felt the love for a brother that I had not grown up with, a bond that is deeper than I first understood.
Next year I will set aside January 27th to go on a special ride, and I will remember back on that wonderful day with my brother in Island Park, when I discovered we had something special in common. A love for Snowmobiling. And I will ride that day in remembrance of him, and do my best to take his 4 children with me, that they too might remember a day when their dad was happy and filled with joy doing something he loved in spite of the pain and suffering he had to endure to do it.
Said he had been having horrible headaches and had gone in for a CAT scan and an MRI just a few days ago.
David has had a life filled with trials and tribulations ever since he got back from his mission in the UK. He has had a degenerative spinal condition that caused him to live in constant pain, for which they were never able to find any real treatment, other than massive pain killers, which bring on a whole slew of their own associated problems.
I never really got to know my little brother though, as we grew up in two different worlds. We only met for the first time when I was 27 in the Army, and have only crossed paths in the last 20 years a few times. David is my half brother with a common father. My mom and dad divorced when I was 2-3 yrs old, and I didn't meet my father and brother till I was 27. And by then David was 20 years old. Because of that and massive distances between I us I have few occasions to ever spend any real time with him.
But this last winter we spent a very rare full day together. He came down to Rigby for a few days for our niece's wedding party, and he was able to spend a whole day snowmobiling with me here in Island Park. That will probably go down as the most time and the most fun we ever had together.
David's journey on earth has come to a close.
He has been called home to a place where his never ending pain will be taken away from him at long last. It's hard for me to even imagine how badly he hurt most days of his life for the last decade.
My little brother leaves behind a wife and 5 young children.
============
Addendum....
I have only one regret, and that is simply that we didn't have a bit more time together to get to know one another. I think, we could have become good friends if really given the opportunity. Of course the impact on his wife and 5 little kids will be profound..
I spoke to my sister briefly, who is understandably much more effected by his loss having grown up with him and living just a few blocks away. I suggested we throw a big party and celebrate his life, rather than mourn his death. She seems surprised, perhaps just in shock from the suddenness of his death?
When I die, I don't want anyone to mourn my passing. I want people to remember the joyous life I had and the good things that I accomplished while I was alive!! I want a party like the 4th of July to celebrate "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED".!!
I want to be buried with a spoon in my hand, because I know the best part is yet to come (Dessert!)
I love my little brother, though I knew him only briefly.
I will miss the opportunity to get to know him better, and go on more rides with him. I think he really enjoyed himself that day, despite the huge pain it caused him.
But I know he was called home at this time for a specific reason, and that nothing happens by chance. Therefor I will rejoice in our Lord, knowing full well that he is in the arms of the Savior, and moving forward with his eternal progression!!
And now may the Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you.
And may God give you His peace in your going out and in your coming in, in your lying down and in your rising up, in your labor and in your leisure, in your laughter and in your tears...
Until you come to stand before Jesus in that day in which there is no sunset and no dawning.
Amen.
===
Thursday morning, July 8th, my little brother (40 years old) was found dead in him bedroom by my father, who found him kneeling down at the side of his bed with his head on the floor and his hands on his head with a look of intense pain on his face as though this head was going to explode. The coroner said the death was consistent with a cerebral hemorrhage. It was quite literally a killer headache.
At 47 I have never lost anyone in my immediate family under the age of 85, so the only members of my family that have passed on, had lived to a ripe old age and passed on from natural causes brought on by age.
I met both my father and brother the same day some 20 years ago when I was in the Army. Since then we only crossed paths once in a while when I went to visit my dad in Montana. On those few occasions we had a generally good time together, but they were always brief and passing encounters. He got married shortly after we met and was busy raising his family, much the same as I was. While I made a real concerted effort to get to know my dad, I failed to put forth the same time and energy in getting to know my brother. And I now find myself deeply regretting that!
Friday morning we loaded up the family and made the trek up to Montana to join the family for the funeral services. It was the first time I had ever been to an open casket funeral, let alone one for someone in my immediate family. It was the strangest thing. There were two separate viewings, one at the funeral home and the other at the church just before the funeral service. No words were spoken at the funeral home, and it was just close family there. While other members of my family that had grown up with David were in tears, I sat there more or less detached from the whole thing. I felt bad for my Dad and his wife, and her children, but I didn't feel any real sense of loss or grieving. Just sat there stoically for the most part.
The next day they moved the casket into the church for a 2nd viewing just before the actual funner service where around 200 people attended. At the end of the viewing they closed the casket before wheeling it into the main chapel room. But as the funeral director closed the casket he walked around to the end and inserted a key that activated a locking mechanism that sealed the lid from ever being opened again. As he ratcheted that key and the lid clamped down tightly something changed for me. Suddenly I began to feel the finality of the loss for the very first time. The sound of that lock was my emotional undoing.
In the chapel I gave the opening prayer for my brother before the service began, and really felt the weight of the whole matter begin to appear. His wife and children had not participated in the previous day's viewing, and now were in the front row and visibly grief stricken. David had 2 teen age daughters, and 2 younger boys. And this was hard on them, much harder than I had appreciated thus far.
My four children and several of the other cousins all went up and sang "I am a child of God", during which David's older son walked up to join them in singing to his father, and then the tears began to flow. My children cried, his children cried, and so did I. Suddenly I began to feel the real loss that had taken place.
My stepsister gave the eulogy as they had grown up together and still only lived a couple blocks apart. It was a loving tribute to a man who I had failed to get to know.
What is it that we regret most in life?
The things we did, that we wished we hadn't, or The things we didn't, that we wished we had?.
For the most part, I am a very happy person who is content with his life. I have very few regrets when I look back on my 47 years. I have been married for 20 years, have a great wife that I adore, 4 wonderful kids that I love dearly, and I am blessed to be allowed to do what I love for work.
But I felt the sting of opportunity lost as I learned more and more about the brother I hardly knew. I was the only child of a single parent growing up. There were no brothers or sisters in my life, only David in my later adult years, and I really had not made the effort to get to know him, or his children very well. Worst of all for me, we had planned on spending a week with my dad at the end of this month, when I would have had plenty of time to hang out with him and finally get to just sit and talk and enjoy his company.
I wonder why it is that we always think we have more time? Perhaps that is the only way to get through life, thinking that there IS more time, that we have tomorrow waiting for us, that there will always be another opportunity to set things right.
When my sister finished his eulogy my oldest daughter and David's oldest nieces all got up to sing "God Be With You Till we Meet Again". And as they sang this lovely song, the pain and heartache of loosing my brother finally came home to me. I cried like I had never cried before.
I cried for the loss of my brother as though he had been a part of my whole life. I cried from the pain and the hurt of having not done all I could have done to get to know him and make him a part of my life.
I wept tears for my father having lost his son, for my sister having lost her brother, and for my nieces and nephews for having lost their dad. I don't think my wife or children had ever seen me cry before.
When the song was over I dried the tears from my eyes and regained my composure for the rest of the day. But for those brief few moments I felt the love for a brother that I had not grown up with, a bond that is deeper than I first understood.
Next year I will set aside January 27th to go on a special ride, and I will remember back on that wonderful day with my brother in Island Park, when I discovered we had something special in common. A love for Snowmobiling. And I will ride that day in remembrance of him, and do my best to take his 4 children with me, that they too might remember a day when their dad was happy and filled with joy doing something he loved in spite of the pain and suffering he had to endure to do it.
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