A Brother named Edward

My spouse had a brother named Edward. And, let me tell you, he was a brother who could make his way in this world quite successfully. He would have been have been 90 years old today, so in addition to writing this to the background of old hymns that I’m playing in his memory, I have a few other remarkable things to say about him:

Polite? That was a word for him. Why, when you’re having dinner and you’re passing the plate with a couple of fried chicken pieces remaining – one of which you particularly wish he wouldn’t pick – he would pass it on and say so graciously, “Thank you, but not at the present time.”

He was the best pet-sitter we ever had. He left his beloved Teddy to us when he passed on, and we could tell the moment we went to the bathroom how much attention he had in Edward’s care. That friendly cat seldom fails to come in for a petting when we’re settled in there. “There, Teddy, nice kitty, Teddy. Yes, we’ll pet you just as Edward must have done.”

And Edward was kind to the folks his sister got for him as caregivers in his late years. One of his caregivers returned the favors with equal kindness. Once we found that a gentleman caregiver had taken Edward to the bar with him.

Some of the caregivers marveled at Edward’s good taste in silver, jewelry, trinkets and other valuables. They helped themselves generously to these valuables he had saved, and we knew they were in, well, eager hands.

When Edward passed on, we had a memorial service at our house, which attracted everyone from his favorite Presbyterian pastor to his handyman, Dave. And do you know what? As the pastor paused before his final “amen,” the old clock on the wall, which seldom got wound up, struck a sonorous “GONG.” To close the service.

Did he love his sister? He was in his adolescent years when she arrived surprisingly on the scene;. Shortly afterward, their father died. Edward then took over the role of father to Barbara and indispensable helpmate to their mother even in the devastating era of economic depression over the land.

And he didn’t pass on until he thought he had done his last respect to Barbara. He died on her birthday – peacefully and undoubtedly aware that he had done all he could until it was all over.

Yes, Edward was quite a man. I am glad he lived and entered my life too. We try to mark his passing every year with a flower tossed into the waves of the ocean where his ashes were scattered.

We have only one budding rose coming on today, but it has arrived timely enough that it will serve for the simple ceremony.

Sleep well, Edward. ..

Paul, September 7, 2005