A Belated Eulogy

                                                 

My brother, Georgie, passed away - what was it - two years ago? It, for me, was like a movie. The whole time surrounding his death and his dying did not dig deep into me. I felt like an observer witnessing his finale. Also, strangely, watching myself - my maneuverings. The memorial was emotional and lovely. I, for a brief moment or two climbed back into my skin so as to feel something.

People, Georgie's Indiana friends, bee-lined it to me because they said I was unmistakably George's brother. He wasn't Georgie in Indiana. He was George. It was the first time I noticed my resemblance to my brother. I believe that day - the day of Georgie's memorial - was the day I began to look like him. Now, people come up to me and ask me if I am related to George Baksa - an old high school friend, a former neighbor - at the library, the mall, on the street. It is as if Georgie won't let me be until I allow myself to feel something - to dig deep and understand - I don't know - something.

 I'm still trying to figure it out.

I do know that I miss him. I miss the conversations we might have had once we started to connect as we aged. That's what happens - right? Siblings drop the nonsense and return to the blood. When I ponder this, I conclude with this inevitability. This "might have been" haunts me and brings me to grief.

I have been so caught up in my own whys and becauses, I forgot to consider Georgie's motives - not actually needing to know them as much as just allowing for their existence. And that is enough to bring me solace of a kind.

Today is Georgie's birthday. Birthday. Birth Day. Day of Birth. Birth. By today's standards he left us as a relatively young man. What is his legacy?

I remember his bravado. I remember his passion for sports and music. Georgie had this huge desire to be noticed, acknowledged, validated and applauded. Me too. How alike we were. He desired a public life. Me too. We both took steps - different steps - but paths that lead us to a social life. This sudden observation exhilarates me. Perhaps it is what ties us now. Where as in life - his life -  somehow drew us apart. I don't know - just thinking out loud as they say.

Georgie leaves me with the memory of a boy who was my first playmate - my first roommate, my first competitor, my first responsibility, my first admirer. We drifted in and out of each others lives. But always hovering close by was an anticipation that we would reconnect from time to time. Our last connection was to say goodbye. Georgie initiated this farewell with grace and much love. This is his legacy to me.

Ultimately,  this brought him back to me and brought him to amazing grace.