Four Years

Last night it really hit me--it's been FOUR years since the worst day of my life so far. It doesn't seem like it could have been that long. My little brother and best friend died four years ago today.

I was thinking about what he meant to me last night, silently asking God to send him word in my prayers that I still think about him every day and that I still miss him. This year, I kept thinking about how many years of composite memories go into every person. There was a House episode a few weeks ago with a girl who could recall every thing that had happened to her perfectly. They made it out to be a curse, but in many ways, it would be a wonderful blessing as well.

I was thinking how fuzzy my older memories are, but I still recall when I ponder, and here were some of my disjointed thoughts.

I remember Jesse always wanted to be the best. I see elements of that in Eli. He always wants to pass the cars around us as we're driving. If they pass us, he says, "They're beating us!" Jesse at a very young age found a croquet ball and was sure it was the biggest easter egg. He wouldn't let it go.

Jesse was stubborn, to a fault, but also in many ways that benefit him and his loved ones. When he would get mad, he'd stick out his bottom lip and pout. He also wouldn't budge. I was always sent in as the family emissary to deal with his little fits. Dora does those same pouts and she won't budge. I guess maybe the next baby will be equipped to deal with her in one of her snits, because I am sure not. It makes me so sad that Jesse is gone, but happy to see little bits of him in both my kids. I'm not sure if that's because of his influence, genetics, or just because I was like Jesse and I'm rubbing off on my kids.

I remember Jesse selling bread he baked with my mom, picking off bugs for money, turning two small strawberry plants into a thousand (and then subcontracting the work of picking the berries to me--his dupe) and selling warheads and fireballs. He and I used to run back and forth to fold pizza boxes for free lunch and check out the local baseball card shop during the summer almost every day. He would pore over the Becketts with me tirelessly calculating if his cards had gone up from $0.25 to $0.45 in value.

I remember his temper--oh he would get so mad, especially if someone said he was wrong. He was so passionate about everything--FORD was best, baseball was wonderful, dogs were the best pets, boy scouts shorts were lame, and so on.

If you told him something didn't make sense though, he would really think on it and he was self aware enough he would admit he was wrong and change his position. He had funny little names for things and anecdotes. Every time we see Jack in the Box, Eli says, "Uncle Jesse called that Jack in the Crack". He's right--that kid is a sponge.

Jesse was a debate whiz, but mostly because his brain was a seriously high powered computer. He could process things faster than I could blink. He would get so frustrated with me when he would spout off a solution in a second and it took me 30 to grasp what he was saying so I could articulate it to the Judges. Despite his killer competitive instinct, he felt really bad when we made other kids cry. (Not that it happened TOO often, mind you and never on purpose.)

He loved Texas and never quite acclimated to Utah, but that first winter was the best. I never saw him without that green puffy Adidas coat. He was so generous--he shares that with his brother Clint. Those two guys were all about giving to the people they loved. He would share his time, his talents and his money without thought to what someone he loved "owed him".

Mostly I am so happy that I got to see him and be there as he grew up. He has always had his quirks, always been strong willed. He always lived life so vibrantly, but as he grew older he started to understand that just because something was right didn't mean it was the right thing to do. Sometimes, he understood, it was better to get along than to be right.

He would have been such a wonderful father--and more than even missing the chats with him and selfishly missing my time, I am so sad he didn't get the chance to be a dad to his kids. I am sad I missed out on seeing him help develop their little personalities--deal with Joc and Jesse with all their quirks and their little needs and wants.

I can't share all the memories I thought about last night. This would be too long, and probably too personal for a blog. But, in case this is turning into a downer, I will end with this with a little story about Eli. He knows I miss Uncle Jesse, and he knows Uncle Jesse was/is my brother. He says sometimes, "Well, I know Uncle Jesse is up with Heavenly Father, but when he undies, I think he'll want to come play with me."

I know it's true. When Jesse undies one day, as we are all promised we will, I am sure he will come play with Eli, and with the rest of those of us who sure love him again. I am so grateful for Christ's sacrifice and the knowledge that those who are missing from our lives will rejoin us again one day in glory and rejoicing.

I love you Jesse and we think about you and talk about you every day.

BG