I had been divorced for almost two years. My birthday was
Friday so my son was going to spend the weekend with me. Since I had to go to
work in the morning I went to bed but my son, who had just turned 16, stayed up
late.
It was about 2:30. My son came into my room and said
“Granddaddy is on the phone.” Calls at 2:30 usually mean bad news. This was no
exception.
“Your brother, Larry, is dead.” I know why he phrased that
in such an unusual way. My mother
had been fighting cancer for over twenty years. “Mother” and “brother” can be
hard to distinguish, so my father wanted to be sure I got the message right. My
brother, age 52, was dead of a heart attack.
I didn’t sleep anymore that night. I was in Seattle; Larry
had lived just across the state line in Idaho, about 300 miles away. I had a
long drive in front of me.
My father had not been able to talk to my other brother. I
tried calling him at home but I got no answer either. My father thought that he may be at his in-laws house about
80 miles south of Seattle. As neither my father nor I had their number, I said
I would drive down and check.
I had two jobs at the time. I could just call in to the one
and make arrangements to take time off. The other one, driving a bus, was a
little more complicated. I would stop by the base and take the necessary steps.
Before my son and I left the house I checked my email. I had
one of the eeriest emails I had ever received; it was from Larry. Nothing earth
shaking, just catching up on family news. It was painful knowing that was the
last I would ever hear from him.
I guess being from a military family made us close. Larry
and I also had many mutual interests. We could talk for hours about old music
and old time radio shows.
My son and I got in the car. Our first stop was at my bus
base. I made arrangements to take the next week off. Then we headed south to my
other brother’s in-laws. No, my brother was not there. I was pretty good
friends with my brother’s father-in-law so we talked for a few minutes. Then my
son and I headed back north to Seattle where I-90 starts its eastern journey.
We finally arrived at my late brother’s house I guess at
about 4 o’clock. There was a house
full of people. My other brother was already there. It turns out the phone was
not in their bedroom so he did not hear it ringing, He got the message after he
woke up. Since he was only coming from central Washington, he only had to drive
about three hours and not seven.
Nobody went hungry that weekend. Neighbors were bringing
food over by the bushel. My brother’s minister came over to help plan the
service. He said that he could do the eulogy if no one in the family wanted to
do it. Not wanting to barge in where I was not wanted, I volunteered in a
roundabout fashion. My offer was accepted.
The subject of music then came up. I mentioned how Larry’s
favorite hymn was“Nearer My God to Thee,” the English version as shown in the
Titanic film “A Night to Remember.” Larry loved ships and loved that movie.
His wife said, “Oh, yes.” So a hunt was on to find the music
for the English version.
We made the funeral arrangements the next day. Larry had an
open casket. I know many people do not like the idea, but I did – at least this
time. Larry looked like he was asleep. I had the urge to shake him and wake him
up. My father stood over the casket and kept saying, “This is not right. The
child is not supposed to go before the parent.”
The service went well. I had asked family members to write
notes from which I delivered the eulogy. I think I did OK.
Larry was cremated. We spread his ashes by Steven’s Pass in
Washington State at a site where we three brothers made an exploration in
1977. It has been a special place since then.
As I said, Larry and I had a number of mutual interests. It
was several years before I finally learned to stop saying, “’ll have to tell Larry
about this.”
Time goes on, but time does not completely stop the flow of
tears.
Larry, I still miss you and always will.
