In memory of my brothers, Patrick and Barry
by Glenda Findley
I am the only girl in a family with 4 boys. I am the oldest. In the last 2 years, my brothers Patrick and Barry passed away from cancer. They were as different as night and day. Patrick was the joker, the funny one, the carefree spirit. He and I were very close in personality and spent much of our middle years together. He moved far away, to Portland, and I only saw him once a year, still I could feel his presence in my life and I loved him so very much.
Barry was more serious, very work-oriented, never married and never had a long-term relationship. He lived his life to the fullest, hunting, fishing, anything outdoors. Whereas Patrick cared more about nice things for the house, Barry grew strawberries in an old fishing boat in his yard. Patrick lived in town and loved the hustle and bustle of city life. Barry lived in a secluded wooded area in an old mobile home and was very happy there. Barry and I were very close the last 10 years of our lives. We talked to each other daily, sometimes several times a day. I am handicapped and rarely leave my home. His calls were sweet rain in my empty life. He died almost 5 months ago now and we took his ashes to the stream he loved so much, just as he requested, and we sent him on down to the Gulf of Mexico. I am overwhelmed with grief.
My only comfort is knowing that I will see them again. Barry said Pat had visited him in the hospital. Pat had been gone almost 2 years. I hope Pat and Barry come for me when my time comes and take me home.
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