I’m sure many of you are wondering what happened to my brother. The one who is no longer with us. It’s okay. No need to feel sorry for me. But it wouldn’t be right for me not to tell his story.
John is… I mean was, twenty years older than me. I hardly ever saw him when I was growing up. He would stop by for some holidays but for as long as I can remember he was just someone “we” didn’t talk about. I remember the police and sometimes lawyers coming to the door looking for him. NO, he never killed anyone. Gosh! He just lived a kinda messed up life for a while there. John started smoking when he was like fourteen. He got into drugs when he was seventeen and was running from the government for as long as I can remember. He ran drug houses and was a homosexual. He was in and out of jobs because he was always pissing off management and skipping taxes any chance he got. John lived a life not worth living. He was doing hard core drugs and going no where. He told me that his drug name was something like Little Mouse one time and we laughed about it forever. He was very honest with me about his life. But John wasn’t ashamed. He was always sick. Always coughing and clearing his voice. He was on a lot of medications and became tired early in the day. He was dying slowly for a long time. All because of the drugs, drinking and smoking. Those things really do catch up to you. He told me once that he knew he wasn’t going to get married and have children someday but that he had made peace with the life he lived. He knew his real life, life without pain was yet to come. He also told me he knew his days were numbered but I never thought he meant so soon.
It wasn’t until I was sixteen and about to end my sophomore year of high school when I decided to seek out a relationship with John. I don’t really remember why. It was about that time when I realize that everything my mother had every told me was a lie. I had six other siblings, yet no relationship with any of them. They were all selfish, rude, sex driven, lying and bitter people. All of them… And none of them like me of course. Or at lease that was what my mother told me. But still, I was left to wonder, how could ALL of them be that horrible? Well, they couldn’t and they are not. I had just been raised thinking that and didn’t know what to think otherwise. Not until the end of high school anyway. It was once I realized my whole childhood was a lie that I started seeking relationships with all my siblings.
Never the less, I sought out John first. I called his number and we talked for two hours. I sat on my window sill and told him all about my life. At the end of our first real conversation he told me that he would always be there for me and to call him anytime. And that is just what I ended up doing. For the next three years John and I would talk on the phone almost every Sunday. He always called. Every Sunday. I would make sticky notes sometimes to remind myself to call him back but I would almost never get around to it. I regret that now. Life is just to short to miss certain phone calls.
Smoking and drinking is what ultimately took Johns life but having AIDS didn’t help either. He told me that if I ever started smoking that he would kill me. Literally. And even though he is in Heaven now, I’m pretty sure he would still somehow follow through with that threat. ;) John didn’t like the life he had but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything. He told me that his life showed him how huge Gods mercy really was. If God could forgive him then nothing was impossible. About five years before John died, he recommitted his life to Christ and lived accordingly. He still smoked and drank sometimes but he changed his life around.
I have never met a man who was more in love with Jesus though. John shined God by helping the elderly and being apart of choir at church. He lived in Ohio with and helped my Grandma. They had a love-hate relationship but were a perfect match for each other. No one could deal with either one of them except the other. John took good care of her and they loved each others company. I still have a voicemail from him laughing about how he called Grandma Santa Claws once because she asked him for some milk to go with her cookies. I’m not joking, that was the whole voicemail. I still listen to it sometime just to remember. I think my Grandma was the one who took his death the worst even though some of my family would say I did.
John was deeply missed by many. And I mean many. Over 200 people came to his funeral. And all of those people were individuals that he had impacted in the last five years of his life. Isn’t that amazing? I was never so proud of him but in that very moment walking into the church seeing all the people that were there.
John and I were very close and had a lot in common. I could call him for advice and he would put me in my place. You could always and I mean always count on John to put you in your place. He was really close with our older sister Alisha. She is the second oldest. They were pretty much twins, so he could give me pretty good twin advice. John and Alisha would fight like cats and dogs and so would my twin sister Ashley and I. John understood a lot about my life and he would constantly remind me that families will always fight but also always love.
The last time I saw him in person before he died was my Junior Prom. He took me aside before I left to the dance and fixed a strain of my hair that came unpinned. Then he told me how beautiful I was and that my date didn’t deserve me. I love that memory.
Another moment that I will never forget was that same visit, I had a fight with my parents that John overheard. I walked into the kitchen and sat down trying not to cry. John came in and sat next to me and took me hand. I looked at him and he had tears running down his face. He told me that He and I were the black sheep of the family and that the black sheep had to stick together. He said he understood that I felt like no one ever heard or noticed me. He said that we had so much in common but that I probably wouldn’t understand that for a few more years. (Now that it’s been a few years, I do understand him) We cried with each other for a minute and then he started praying over me. That prayer was one of the most imitate moments I ever shared with him. My high school sweetheart witnessed the whole thing. John and I had a deep love and relationship from that point on.
More than two years later I received a phone call at work from Ashley that John had gone into the hospital and would probably not come out. He went into the hospital a few days before with a bleeding stomach ulcer. But that day his heart had stopped and he was on life support. Alisha was on her way to see him right then and a few of us were headed out to Ohio within the next few days. Alisha was there when the doctor took him off life support but he didn’t die. He woke up and stayed alive a few more days. It was a short miracle. He waited for my dad, my mom, Ashley and I to get there. The doctors kept saying he would ask where we were everyday. One of the first things he said to me was “did you see any bears working in the mountains?” I just laughed and said no. He was dying but still making jokes. My father, Grandma and Johns Pastor were all with him the morning that he died. My dad held his head and felt him take his last breath. My Grandma said it was one of the most beautiful moments of her life because the Pastor was singing about Heaven when John passed away. What a wonderful way to go.
You could hear Johns voice a mile away. He had that “Black southern preacher” kind of voice and boy was he loud. But I loved it. I will never forget the way he talked. Or how he wrote. He had the most beautiful hand writing. I didn’t cry at his funeral but I wept an ocean of tears for the months to come. I slowly fell into a depression and started hating God for taking my Brother away from me. I still needed him. I still needed his advice. But he was gone. I still cry about it sometimes. I miss my brother everyday. But I am SO thankful for the last few years we had getting to know each other. Knowing that I will see him again someday is what keeps me going strong.
John is… I mean was, twenty years older than me. I hardly ever saw him when I was growing up. He would stop by for some holidays but for as long as I can remember he was just someone “we” didn’t talk about. I remember the police and sometimes lawyers coming to the door looking for him. NO, he never killed anyone. Gosh! He just lived a kinda messed up life for a while there. John started smoking when he was like fourteen. He got into drugs when he was seventeen and was running from the government for as long as I can remember. He ran drug houses and was a homosexual. He was in and out of jobs because he was always pissing off management and skipping taxes any chance he got. John lived a life not worth living. He was doing hard core drugs and going no where. He told me that his drug name was something like Little Mouse one time and we laughed about it forever. He was very honest with me about his life. But John wasn’t ashamed. He was always sick. Always coughing and clearing his voice. He was on a lot of medications and became tired early in the day. He was dying slowly for a long time. All because of the drugs, drinking and smoking. Those things really do catch up to you. He told me once that he knew he wasn’t going to get married and have children someday but that he had made peace with the life he lived. He knew his real life, life without pain was yet to come. He also told me he knew his days were numbered but I never thought he meant so soon.
It wasn’t until I was sixteen and about to end my sophomore year of high school when I decided to seek out a relationship with John. I don’t really remember why. It was about that time when I realize that everything my mother had every told me was a lie. I had six other siblings, yet no relationship with any of them. They were all selfish, rude, sex driven, lying and bitter people. All of them… And none of them like me of course. Or at lease that was what my mother told me. But still, I was left to wonder, how could ALL of them be that horrible? Well, they couldn’t and they are not. I had just been raised thinking that and didn’t know what to think otherwise. Not until the end of high school anyway. It was once I realized my whole childhood was a lie that I started seeking relationships with all my siblings.
Never the less, I sought out John first. I called his number and we talked for two hours. I sat on my window sill and told him all about my life. At the end of our first real conversation he told me that he would always be there for me and to call him anytime. And that is just what I ended up doing. For the next three years John and I would talk on the phone almost every Sunday. He always called. Every Sunday. I would make sticky notes sometimes to remind myself to call him back but I would almost never get around to it. I regret that now. Life is just to short to miss certain phone calls.
Smoking and drinking is what ultimately took Johns life but having AIDS didn’t help either. He told me that if I ever started smoking that he would kill me. Literally. And even though he is in Heaven now, I’m pretty sure he would still somehow follow through with that threat. ;) John didn’t like the life he had but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything. He told me that his life showed him how huge Gods mercy really was. If God could forgive him then nothing was impossible. About five years before John died, he recommitted his life to Christ and lived accordingly. He still smoked and drank sometimes but he changed his life around.
I have never met a man who was more in love with Jesus though. John shined God by helping the elderly and being apart of choir at church. He lived in Ohio with and helped my Grandma. They had a love-hate relationship but were a perfect match for each other. No one could deal with either one of them except the other. John took good care of her and they loved each others company. I still have a voicemail from him laughing about how he called Grandma Santa Claws once because she asked him for some milk to go with her cookies. I’m not joking, that was the whole voicemail. I still listen to it sometime just to remember. I think my Grandma was the one who took his death the worst even though some of my family would say I did.
John was deeply missed by many. And I mean many. Over 200 people came to his funeral. And all of those people were individuals that he had impacted in the last five years of his life. Isn’t that amazing? I was never so proud of him but in that very moment walking into the church seeing all the people that were there.
John and I were very close and had a lot in common. I could call him for advice and he would put me in my place. You could always and I mean always count on John to put you in your place. He was really close with our older sister Alisha. She is the second oldest. They were pretty much twins, so he could give me pretty good twin advice. John and Alisha would fight like cats and dogs and so would my twin sister Ashley and I. John understood a lot about my life and he would constantly remind me that families will always fight but also always love.
The last time I saw him in person before he died was my Junior Prom. He took me aside before I left to the dance and fixed a strain of my hair that came unpinned. Then he told me how beautiful I was and that my date didn’t deserve me. I love that memory.
Another moment that I will never forget was that same visit, I had a fight with my parents that John overheard. I walked into the kitchen and sat down trying not to cry. John came in and sat next to me and took me hand. I looked at him and he had tears running down his face. He told me that He and I were the black sheep of the family and that the black sheep had to stick together. He said he understood that I felt like no one ever heard or noticed me. He said that we had so much in common but that I probably wouldn’t understand that for a few more years. (Now that it’s been a few years, I do understand him) We cried with each other for a minute and then he started praying over me. That prayer was one of the most imitate moments I ever shared with him. My high school sweetheart witnessed the whole thing. John and I had a deep love and relationship from that point on.
More than two years later I received a phone call at work from Ashley that John had gone into the hospital and would probably not come out. He went into the hospital a few days before with a bleeding stomach ulcer. But that day his heart had stopped and he was on life support. Alisha was on her way to see him right then and a few of us were headed out to Ohio within the next few days. Alisha was there when the doctor took him off life support but he didn’t die. He woke up and stayed alive a few more days. It was a short miracle. He waited for my dad, my mom, Ashley and I to get there. The doctors kept saying he would ask where we were everyday. One of the first things he said to me was “did you see any bears working in the mountains?” I just laughed and said no. He was dying but still making jokes. My father, Grandma and Johns Pastor were all with him the morning that he died. My dad held his head and felt him take his last breath. My Grandma said it was one of the most beautiful moments of her life because the Pastor was singing about Heaven when John passed away. What a wonderful way to go.
You could hear Johns voice a mile away. He had that “Black southern preacher” kind of voice and boy was he loud. But I loved it. I will never forget the way he talked. Or how he wrote. He had the most beautiful hand writing. I didn’t cry at his funeral but I wept an ocean of tears for the months to come. I slowly fell into a depression and started hating God for taking my Brother away from me. I still needed him. I still needed his advice. But he was gone. I still cry about it sometimes. I miss my brother everyday. But I am SO thankful for the last few years we had getting to know each other. Knowing that I will see him again someday is what keeps me going strong.
Isn’t it a wonderful life?
