Brother Bill

My brother died at the very end of 2011. He had been diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer near the beginning of October. It had spread to his bones and he was told "You are terminal, Bill. But....with treatment you could, in theory, live another 10 years". I heard "Terminal". Bill heard "10 years". Oh, the differences between us, despite the common traits, were huge. He was an optimist. I'm querulous. He had every reason in the world, given his circumstances, to be just as whiny and complaining as I am, (and always have been, mind you), but chose to take a different road.
I know he had a mental illness that reached back to his late teens. That allowed me to pre-judge him. He, on the other hand, didn't recognize he had an illness, perhaps. Even if he did recognize there was a problem, he lived with it such a way that people who didn't know him before the illness, had no idea. At all. So....

I've come to realize that I didn't know my brother all that well. His capabilities. The brutal honesty supported by a moral code rarely adhered to in this day and age. His capacity for knowledge. A generous nature that bordered on abnormal and love to give to anyone that was deserving.
I underestimated him. I thought him to be not broken, but badly bent. But I have come to learn he was ever so slightly bent and that was negated by a willingness to do, give and learn anything to help his friends and loved ones.

When I was a young teen and my brother was an Alien, he was my hero. I wanted nothing more than to be like him, (and he once accused me of trying to BE him), do what he did and make music my life. Well...I left home to take one path and always thought that Bill would languish in Virginia, struggle to get by like we all do and live out life in a quiet, relative obscurity. Like me !

I've come to find out that he was showered with riches not measured in dollars, but hearts. Took heroic measures to assist and comfort his friends in need and never really expected anything in return and when he left this world, women cried. And men cried, too. One of the strongest men I know sobbed like a child.
This is how any man should want his life measured.
Who did you touch ? How did you love ? Will you be missed ?

Well, Bill touched many, as did his love. He will be missed by the recipients of that love and come to find out, a whole lot more folks that just happened to be sitting in the car of life as Bill's love came careening, out of control, and sideswiped them.
I feel now, that I may have taken his love for granted. If so, foolish me. There was a treasure there. I buried it.

Goodbye, my brother.