In this life I was blessed with three brothers – two brothers from my parents, and one half brother from my dad’s first marriage. My baby brother was taken from us just shy of his two-month birthday, having had breathing issues. My half brother was lost in his adult life due to complications from illness. I was only five when we lost the youngest brother; I remember when he passed. It was a very sad time in our house. I remember discovering that he wasn’t breathing. I remember my mom calling an ambulance and them leaving while we stayed behind with other adults. Then I remember my mom and dad coming home, walking up the stairs while my mom sobbed uncontrollably. I remember going to his viewing and thinking how tiny the casket was; it was all in blue. That’s about the extent of my memories of him, or at least what I was able to process. My half brother didn’t live with us, and we saw him from time to time when he’d come visit. We always got along well. He had health issues and passed when we were adults, after I’d moved to Florida. For the most part, I grew up with one brother.

My brother and I were close as we grew. We shared a room when we were younger, we played together, we got into trouble together. We made up games. G.I. Joe commandeered my two-story dollhouse on more than one occasion. Donny and Marie Osmond were kicked to the curb along with Barbie. Even though he is my little brother, he’s always had a strong personality and he’s always been very intelligent. He’s quick with a comment or joke. He’s very observant. It’s no wonder he ended up in law enforcement. He also has a wonderful sense of humor and could always make my mom laugh, still does. All he has to do is give her a sarcastic reply to a question, or mimic her still-strong accent, and she is laughing again.

He and I spent a lot of time in creeks and lakes, splashing and then subsequently getting a “whipping” for not staying out of the water. We made messes. We broke the spring bed frames we had by removing the springs and then losing them. We mixed a lot of stuff in the bathroom in the sink just to experiment. We created cities in the gravel parking lot next door where his Tonka trucks drove around all afternoon. We looked out for each other. I remember once kicking another boy who’d said something about my brother.

Since his daughter was born eight years ago, he’s always saying, “Just admit it… my kid is better than yours.” Of course I do not; I tell him that they are both the best in their respective age brackets (they’re twenty years apart). He’s begun systematically removing my pictures from mom’s walls by hanging up new photos of his child and replacing my pictures with those. He says that the removal of my photos is almost complete. I know he can’t erase the memories though, he’s stuck with those. I’m just waiting for G.I. Joe to fall asleep and then Barbie is coming for her house… and she’s bringing Donny and Marie for backup.