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Friday, April 15, 2011

The Last of Tommy

My widowed SIL sent me a funereal package. It's the last bits of my brother. The program from his church funeral with a very short summary of his involvement with the church and singing there, a photo of the altar with the last photo taken of him, a memorial card. It's all very nice. But nothing of it captures Tommy. He was at least three additional people. The incredibly talented musician. The passionate medical guy. The maths fancier, trivia hound, lefty indignant caring person who really tried to understand others. None of that. So sterile, so final, so unfunny these relics. Tommy laughed so easily and heartily. Among my damning prides is the one that I could make my brothers laugh and their wives always said they knew they 'd been talking to me by the laughter. It's down to Billy and me now- we don't speak often (when I call it's always his wife and she's a motormouth) and he doesn't laugh much anymore. I owe it to Tommy, Johnny and Sethelmay to get Billy laughing again. That's what they'd want most. A song for my brothers gone ahead: