Miss You

I miss you Rod.

Rod's my brother. He died January 31, 2007. His dog, Ram, died in April 2008. Guess he decided to hang around a year and change longer....

I was always angry at my brother because he didn't behave and live his life in a manner that I saw to be appropriate. It wasn't until he started to get sick when this powerful man who could knock out any other man with just one punch, began to allow me to see the beauty that was inside of him. He slowly shed his strong warrior facade. Behind that veil, I came to know a beautiful human being who was full of compassion for others, for animals and for anyone unable to fend for themself. He allowed homeless people to stay a night or two or three, helped them to find a more permanent residence; rescued small, helpless animals, bringing them home to nurse them to health. Once, I was terrified when I walked into the house and saw a huge pitbull milling around with his other dogs. It turned out that a neighbor was sent over to Iraq and Rod agreed to take care of the dog for as long as it took for his owner to come back home.

He had a way with animals. They were always obedient and calm when he was around. I guess they could sense his strength and submitted to him. I am sure they also sensed his compassion underneath. What I couldn't see or chose not to see for so many years.

Like my father, and a lot of us in my family, he could fix anything. He would pick up discarded bikes from the street, fix them and give them away to kids who didn't have one. This was known throughout an extended part of the neighborhood and kids would come to the house asking if he had a bike to give away. Even after he left us, kids still came by looking for the bike man.

He painted. I never knew that. During the "death watch," meaning I went by the house just about every day to check on him because he was so weak and we all knew the time was coming, he brought me into his room to look at his collection of things. He showed me a picture that he painted, wrote a little note to his big sister on the back of it and gave it to me. It hangs in my music room, always a reminder of a brother I didn't get to know until it was almost time for him to leave.

I was only a year older. My birthday was in May and his was in November. Even though I was ignorate enough not to acknowledge his birthday, he would always call me just after it had passed and say, "Well sis, we turned another year older." This always touched me and we would have a nice conversation at least once a year.

He always showed me compassion, forgiveness and strength. Always reaching out with love. And, I always knew that I was protected from "thugs" and such because of my brother's reputation on the streets. I know the things he's done to make sure I would never be in harm's way of violence on the streets. In fact, he did that for everyone in my family.

I thank God that I was able to finally be a part of his life, even in this small way, before it was too late for me to know the internal beauty of my sibling.

A month before he passed away, I was able to take him to see a movie. He hadn't been in a movie theater in years. For the first time in our lives we went out together and alone to experience ourselves as brother and sister. The only thing playing that we could catch that night was "Night at the Museum." It wasn't a great film, but it is etched in my heart forever. It's now one of my most favorite movies of all time and anytime it comes on, I watch it and talk to Rod and we sit together and laugh.