Five Things I Learned From My Brother

Every year my birthday passes I think more and more of my late brother. I think of him every single day but on my birthday more so because I am two years older than he was when he died. To me that is hard as hell to accept and so weird. If I had died two years ago I wouldn't have met my friends beautiful daughter, hung out with cool people, or seen my best friend flying through the ranks of the library system while simultaneously making me stutardedly happy. .

For anyone that wants to know about my brother and how he passed away (the full version I've only told someone about once) click here. There are links to previous blogs about him as well. He was a cool ass dude and I learned a lot of things from him.

1. In Humor Everything Is Fair Game

I'm sure that some people would consider some of the things my brother did mean but if you knew him you knew that he was doing it to make people laugh or break the tension in a situation. It didn't matter if someone was praying over a meal he would start muttering about chocolate cake until someone laughed and got in trouble. He would snatch you into the bathroom while he was on the toilet or sit on your lap and fart in front of everyone. He did it all to make someone laugh.

I have a cousin who got booted from a house for having public sex. No, no one would speak of this out loud but one day Kevin decided to just say it in front of everyone. People close to this relative gave him snake eyes while I ran to my room to keep from laughing too hard. The thing about Kevin was that you couldn't stay mad at him because you knew that if he wasn't there the room would be boring.

2. Its Easy To Show You Give A Damn

Kevin never bragged about the stuff he was going to do for me. Most times he never even said anything about it. I started drawing because he drew and one Christmas I was sitting on my bed and he tossed a huge box of every art supply I could ever want. Next he slid a drawing board into my room. I damn near lost my mind. I jumped on him and he likely bodyslammed me. He was weird that way. He would tackle you and try to kiss you on the cheek one minute then punch you in the arm for hugging him.

He knew that at times I was going crazy staying at home and would take me to work with him or to watch him and his friends playing sports. He liked to include me in the things he did and that was so damned nice of him and I remembered it even when I got older. I remember small things like him taking me to the store to get chips more than the first tit I ever grabbed.

3. Enjoy The Little Things

Nothing made my brother happier than a Ding Dong or Chocodile. I swear if you saw him eating that you'd think it was his last meal on death row. He liked simple things. Ironed clothes (which I did for cash). A clean car. Good food. And sports. His first car was his last car. He never upgraded to what was new and flashier. His Nissan Sentra was with him from 1987 till 2001 when he died.

It was easy to make Kevin laugh. Just fall down in front of him or make fun of a smell he produced. It was hard to get one over on him though because he was so damned quick with comebacks. The only reason I was so good at being a smartass when I was little was because I learned from him. I only made him speechless once and I ran around my grandmother's house like I'd won the Super Bowl.

4. Size Doesn't Matter

Kevin was not a big dude. Maybe 5'8”. But when I was little I used to tell people that he was 6'2” because he could dunk a basketball. He played basketball and football in school and after graduating played those plus baseball with his friends. These weren't friendly flag football games either. One dude got his shoulder dislocated! I was amazed at how high Kevin could jump and even when he gained weight how damned fast he was.

I was short for a very long time so he would make fun of my height but still treat me like I was big. I'd wear his football gear (yes, even the cup...) and helmet and he'd have me run at him in the bedroom while he smacked the helmet. I'm sure that accounts for some of my brain damage but it was worth it. I was small as hell with a huge complex.

5. Survivors Guilt Is Real

This is the worst part out of all of this. At my brothers funeral there were so many people there some were standing. So many folks from different parts of his life spoke about him and no one had a bad word to say. And they all got him. People who knew him for a few months at his new job said the same things that people who'd grown up with him did. He was funny, giving, and a hard worker.

I wanted to replace him so bad. I figured that I could never be as anything as he was. He had friends his entire life. People were torn up when he died and I thought that I would never have that kind of impact on people so why is he gone while I'm still here? I don't think like that as much as I used to. Especially when I have a random thought about my brother and it makes me laugh. They're like little happy memory bubbles that just pop up every once in a while.

I still wonder what he would look like older. He'd be 44 this year and I hate that I have no idea what he would be doing or what he'd sound like older. I wish some of my friends could've met him. For as much as I keep people away from my family I would have brought them to a gathering just to meet him. Once he passed away I slowed down going to family gatherings and then when my grandmother's were gone that was it. I haven't seen my parents since 2010. Maybe I'm a terrible son.

Nope.

Click here for previous Five Things I Learned.