When we were little, my brother and I would play this game called, “Cookies and Milk” where you stood at the head of the bed and fell backwards, while yelling “cooooookies and miiiiilk.” The supporting sibling would then catch your feet and bounce you back up so that you were upright again. Over the years, once we moved to a new home and new rooms, we changed the words to see who could make the funniest combination while we fell: “maaaarshmallows and toooooenails” or “piiiickles and coffeeeeee.” You get the point.
Being close in age, we were still the supporting siblings for all manner of ridiculousness: “No, Mom, I have NO idea how those house numbers got glued to the bedroom doors so it looks like a bed & breakfast” or “No, Mom, she was home right when she said she would be. I heard her come in.” And my personal favorite, “No, we aren’t sure what happened—the car has had that weird smell for a while now.”
As we got older, it became harder and harder to figure out how to catch each other when we were falling. We didn’t need our feet caught, but somehow we still needed that extra help finding our self upright again. In our teens, it was the comfort of just knowing that there was always one person who had your back, no matter what—who would take your side, right or wrong. In our twenties, it became harder to define what support meant, without nagging or being pushy. People need room to find their own way.
So, little brother, today, on the anniversary of your “homegoing” I honor my favorite memories of you…
- the home videos we made to Ray Stevens songs (may they always remain hidden)
- you and Dad pulling the stump out of the lake using rather unconventional methods that summer at Keowee
- "Whoa! Whoa!"
- the video you made to send to America's Funniest Home videos when you were 11
- the last summer we had together--working on the house together and of course, the "knees of stiffness"
- our last weekend and you bouncing that stupid bouncy ball all through the mall, with people looking at us like you were insane
- sitting on the doorframe in my house (where the porch would one day go) talking about what we wanted from life and where we wanted to be in a few years (I hope you found your peace)
- your beautiful smile
- your infectious laugh
- your sarcasm that I can only hope to aspire to
Thank you, my virtual "village" for listening and helping me honor my brother today. If you knew David and would like to share memories, please feel free. If you weren't blessed to know him, feel free to share memories of your own siblings. But wherever you are in life, please take time today to let those you love know how important they are to you. Blessings to you from us!