My Brother

A couple of nights ago Steve and I were up 4-5 times in the night (too much root beer Steve says).  Each time I helped him get back in bed I could not position him correctly or push him up towards the top where his pillow was.  He still thanked me and said it was Okay. But it was not Okay. Nothing about what is happening to him is Okay. I watch my brother as he struggles with every simple task.  He is more patient with himself than I would ever be with myself.  He lives his life with very little complaint. He finds humor in many situations.

This trip has been full of conversation, tears and laughter.  It has been such a gift for me to share this experience of great beauty with my beautiful family. I will cherish my memories of this trip just as I cherish my brother.

Holly

“Bitter-Sweet”

Tonight  in the peaceful silence of the evening as we drove a side road along the Madison river emotions ran deep. A fly fisherman was standing in the river silhouetted by the setting sun. He was moving with such ease and grace as only a gifted fisherman can. All appeared well with the world. The tragedy is that all is not well with our world. I desperately wanted that fisherman standing in the river to be my brother as he had done so many times before. A river his first-born is named after. Instead my brother is a passenger riding on a road along side the Madison river bound by his failing body. No longer is there the carefree ease of movement and balance and the freedoms that follow. Looking in the rearview mirror the face reflected was my fathers, also a fisherman. In his eyes my emotions were reflected as rivers of tears welt up, spilled over and ran freely in the silence of the evening.

Becky

9/26/2010