Reflections of... Memories!

      "My brother Joe-- Yes, I remember him well!"

Reflections Of…Memories!

                               By Alan P. Scaglione

Today would have been my brother Joe’s birthday.
I guess it still is—just not sure how they handle birthdays in Heaven.
He was 10 years older than I am—that seemed insurmountable at times, now—it seems like nothing.

I remember so much about him as I grew up.

He marched on Washington, DC against the Viet Nam War.
He got drafted and was rejected because he weighed too little—I’ve never had that problem.
He had a wonderful voice that I always felt was stuck on vibrato.
He played phenomenal guitar and good piano and okay flute and not quite okay violin.
He had a temper on one side, and a heart of gold on another.
He loved his daughter more than life itself; and he stopped living the day she did.
He wrote some memorable words, in his songs, in his papers on Cuba, in his cards.
He always reminded me that I was a beautiful child; blonde haired, fair skinned and blue eyed; they were none of those.
He never missed the opportunity to dress up like a woman in a character called Gilda! To embarrass his brothers always!
He always befriended the ostracized, disenfranchised, fray of the world—making them fell wanted and appreciated.
He stood for the every man in every situation he was in; at work, at home, at church—always spoke up against wrong!
He loved to call and share his latest song—even when it was 13 verses long and was named Ichabod!

 These memories are golden today— I cling to them, embrace them and gather comfort from them.

And yet—we spent a lot of time apart—just not understanding or appreciating each other—not acknowledging how much we were alike.
I have been wondering why some people make an impact on your life while they are alive;
And others—make that impact when they are gone.
There has long been the saying that you really don’t become famous or appreciated—until you are gone!
That has never brought me any comfort!
But… sometimes, we take for granted certain people, certain things—and then, they disappear—and we are only left with our memories.
As is life—most people deify the dead—canonize them for sainthood.
Joe was NOT a saint!
He tormented me as a child—
But that’s a whole other column!
Seriously… we are people, we make mistakes, we accidentally and sometimes, intentionally… hurt other people.
But when they pass from this life to another—we who are left behind are able to shed the bad and savor the good.
Yes Joe chased me daily around the house with a knife, yelling “Run Fat Boy, Run!” while I screamed for mercy!
Yes Joe never gave me a compliment on my writing—although we shared that gift—so I always wondered “Was I good enough?”
Yes Joe always called and told me about what was going on in his life, and never asked what was going on in mine.
Funny… I would run for dear life again and take one of his calls with another of his long songs—even IF he never asked about me.
Just to hear from him again.
Maybe this is meant to speak to those of us who are left behind—after our loved one has gone on.
Maybe I just want you to know—it’s okay to acknowledge that they may have done some mean things as long as you also remember the good.
Maybe you need to let go of the bad—forgiveness really IS meant for US—the power is in being able to let go and live while we can, as best we can!
The Word reminds us in The Lord’s Prayer “forgive us our debts AS WE FORGIVE our debtors!”
What if God only forgave US as much as we forgave THEM?
Seriously—consider that!
So… remember the good, let go of the bad and take comfort…
Someday—someone will be doing the same about you!

 Brother “A”

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