The first decade of the 21st century was not good for me. It was not a good decade for me because it stole my dreams. It stole from me the right to spend some free time with my brother Richard and my sister Kaye.
The first decade of the 2000’s was not supposed to be the end of their lives. It was not supposed to take their lives. I had plans for them and in order to complete those plans they had to continue to live. But they didn’t. The decade took them away from me.
The first was my sister. She was the eldest of the four children raised by mother and father. She was always there for me. She was there for me when I was five and she was there for me when I was thirty-five and again when I was 65. I had always had plans to go on cruises with her when I retired. She loved to go on cruises. The trouble was that I didn’t get to retire before the decade took her. When the decade took her it took my plans and dreams with her. I never got to make that trip with her.
Next the damned decade came and stole my brother. He was the second oldest and I was the youngest but there was only three years differences in our ages. We were supposed to go hunting and fishing again just like when we were kids. We were supposed to sit on a porch and drink whatever we damned well pleased. We were supposed to sit on a porch and swap lies. We were supposed to sit on a porch and dream about a future that would be all too short. We were supposed to ride the range again with an old broken down jeep and talk about our dad and how great he was. We were supposed to laugh and giggle about our dad’s old pink and black truck. We were supposed to talk about mom and how he kicked my butt when I sassed her. We were supposed to talk about the days he worked at Stanford University and how he got me a job there. We were supposed to laugh about Tony Ferlito and the girl’s dorm. We were supposed to remember how Tony grabbed the hot electric wire when the naked coed walked by. We were supposed to remember how grabbing the hot wire knocked him off the ladder while he was telling the naked coed her naked body¬¬ didn’t bother him.
We were supposed to grow old together. We had all of these things to do and all of these things to talk about and that damned decade took that from us. That damned decade stole my brother.
Now all I have are the memories and what great memories they are.
Stan Beatty/April 2010
A stunning and poignant retrospective on deep personal loss. You speak for us all in your particular grief. As the only survivor of my family of origin, I thank you for this, Stan.
ReplyDeleteIt's exactly, exactly how I feel about my brother. The stories are not the same but the feeling! I'm right there with you. I'm sending a copy to my brother, he hates it when I get mushy and this says it better anyway.
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