For My Brother

It is funny how we answer complicated questions with simple answers; how we view things through a prism seeing how things were and how they are all in the same viewing. And that is how I view my brother. I tried doing this earlier but it wasn’t coming (people say I have a gift for words but they are all flat to me)’ but I keep writing hoping the right ones come. As it says in the byline this is for my brother, whom died Saturday of last week. What do you say about the one who was your kin; your weekend tormentor and sometimes fellow TV watcher? How do you describe the boy you had had to preempt to a dinner table and gave you uncalled kisses on the cheek while in a headlock? How do you encapsulate a life that you’ve seen from varying perspectives? I don’t know. I can describe the instances and events that happen between brothers, the obvious fights and jealousies that encapsulate any relationship bound by blood. The time he tried to buy my silence with pizza or the time he gave me chickenpox. When I was there at his funeral I realized there was a lot I didn’t know about him and a lot of things left unsaid. I can’t say I always liked him and he was not an angel; but he was my brother, my big brother. He was the one who gave me my nieces. He was the one who I set some of my standards by. If there is one regret it is that I didn’t talk to him more. In the past week I’ve heard from people who said what he thought of me but I rather heard from him. And who I didn’t tell I loved and respected him. In the end I don’t know, He was a man; a good man and one who tried to walk with god. This is for my brother, for Quinton Roy Fowler; whom I loved.