The Sensitive One
My brother Jim passed away on January 31st, 2022, leaving three of seven siblings yet to face the inevitable. Holding his hand in hospice care at home was his ever-faithful Linda.
I choose to remember him as he was in younger years. He stood tall, muscular, narrow at the hip, and broad shouldered. And anyone who dared mess with him regretted it. He was an outdoorsman, a hard worker, a man’s man, and yet, sensitive, introverted, and often ill at ease around others.
I choose not to remember him in declining years, except to recognize that after years of the toil and strife, lost opportunities, and unrealized dreams that go with living, his sensitivity survived.
Will he be mourned? Of course. Will he be missed? Of course. Will his life have stood for something? It depends on how much his progeny utilizes the best of him in their accomplishments. Will he face an afterlife? I don’t know for sure, but if he does, I pray it will be one in which he is rewarded for doing the best he could within the limits life imposed upon him.
My words do not convey the depth of my sorrow at his passing, and I fear that additional words would fail me as well. So, I will say no more, except farewell, my brother. May you rest in peace.
Copyright © 2022 Frank Zahn