My brother.

I have a sister 16 years older than me, another 14 years older than me and then there was my brother, who was 12 years older than me. My dad said he traded a horse for my brother - because he sold his horse to pay the medical bills when my brother was born. I don't think a horse would make much of a financial dent in today's health system.
My brother played guitar. He loved Chet Atkins, The Ventures, Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard. He liked fast cars, motorcycles, water skiing and cats. He thought the cartoon character Goofy was hysterical. I remember him, when he was a teenager, watching Goofy water ski, or something. He laughed SO hard and banged his fist on the arm of the chair. Me - I'm a Bugs man. Or Bullwinkle.
A few years before my brother passed away, he left his wife for someone. I think he may even have had a child with her. My whole family, a bunch of religoids, turned on him. I was in my early twenties and was pretty idiotic and easily swayed. I judged him, also.
I remember that he was back and forth, in and out, and there were a lot of hysterical arguments. Often with my sisters right in the middle of it all.
One Christmas, I recall, he was sitting all alone on his front steps, while everyone else was trying to have some sort of holiday - right next door, at my mom's house, where I'm living now. The tension in the house was palpable. Everyone was trying to ignore him, as he sat there drinking a beer(!). I was young and stupid. I remember looking down on him.
I wish I could go back in time to that Christmas day. I would defy the whole family and walk over and have a beer with him.
I missed my chance. I know what it means to be human. If he had had one person to sit by him and not judge him, maybe it would have made some kind of difference. My brother was in terrible pain. I have had that pain throughout my life. I can't forget him sitting there. That boy was torn up.
He eventually got back with his wife and kids, got religion, had a heart attack and died - after an agonizing month, or more, in Duke hospital. He was only 36.
We talked a little when he was sick, and made up. But, there wasn't much left of him, at that point. So, I never had that beer with him...
Life is so fragile.
So fleeting.