He had just turned 65 and almost received his first Social Security check. My brother has always been a tough guy, kind of like my own John Wayne. I remember telling kids about some of his escapades and enjoying their oohs and aahs that I was related to him.
At his beach memorial service (he was also the infamous old surfer dude tough guy -- Come to think of it, he was - fill in the blank- tough guy in everything he did) a friend told about how Chuck had straighted out some problems she was having with a contractor just by showing up one day on his BIG motorcycle in full leather, wraparound shades, beard and ponytail protruding from his helmet, sporting his infamous "I'm crazier than sh--" look. He did not have to say a thing to the workmen, he just gave his friend a hug and asked her how things were going. She said, with a friend like Chuck troublesome folks kind of fell into line.
I was glad though that at the end of my brother's life he was able to let go of some of his toughness, his rough edge. I know that some of that tough-guy-image was also a way of protecting a very fragile human being. I need to tell you sometime more about my brother's life but it will suffice for now to say he was hurt early on and had a hard time letting people get too close. I think his toughness was a shield to protect himself though it did come in handy at times to protect others as well.
My last conversation with my brother was so very sweet. We loved each other, we always had, though we had missed saying it very often until just the last few years. I thanked him for all the ways he had been my big brother and has taken care of me; getting me jobs, working with me, being proud of me. He told me he thought he had been to hard on me and asked me to forgive him. I did because I thought he really needed some forgiveness in his life. Not just for what he did to me, what he had done to me was pretty minimal, but the forgiveness we all need for lives that were often directed by fear and loneliness and some deep misunderstood wounds.
I drove back to Berkeley that day with a deep feeling of completeness, it was done, nothing stood between us now. We were really ready to be brothers. I also made personal promises to spend more time with my brother in the days and weeks, and I hoped, years ahead. I wanted more of this sweetness in my life. I needed more of this sweetness in my life.
My brothered died last week before I could see him again. I am sad but I still feel more complete than I felt before. He gave me a gift that no one else could have given to me. Chuck and I felt God was at work here, we talked about that as well.
I will always remember the last conversation I had with my big brother as I will always remember the last conversation I had with my twin sister before her death. I will carry them as gifts and they will make me stronger and better and a little wiser as I come closer to my last conversation with the people I love.
(Just a note: I have told my granddaughter that I can't eat so much garbage anymore and I have to ride my bike more so that I an play with her children someday. That means I have time to work on some very wise and wonderful last words to be remembered by.)
P.S. This evening over one hundred surfers will take part in a "paddle-out" in my brother's honor. They will form a circle out in his beloved ocean at sunset and remember his life. It is taking place at the bottom of Tioga Ave, Sand City which is Chuck's home break. They will have a big bonfire and party following the paddle-out -- I am sure they will have some great "Chuck Stories" to share. Press HERE to read my brother's obituary
Reporting from my place in the world
At his beach memorial service (he was also the infamous old surfer dude tough guy -- Come to think of it, he was - fill in the blank- tough guy in everything he did) a friend told about how Chuck had straighted out some problems she was having with a contractor just by showing up one day on his BIG motorcycle in full leather, wraparound shades, beard and ponytail protruding from his helmet, sporting his infamous "I'm crazier than sh--" look. He did not have to say a thing to the workmen, he just gave his friend a hug and asked her how things were going. She said, with a friend like Chuck troublesome folks kind of fell into line.
I was glad though that at the end of my brother's life he was able to let go of some of his toughness, his rough edge. I know that some of that tough-guy-image was also a way of protecting a very fragile human being. I need to tell you sometime more about my brother's life but it will suffice for now to say he was hurt early on and had a hard time letting people get too close. I think his toughness was a shield to protect himself though it did come in handy at times to protect others as well.
My last conversation with my brother was so very sweet. We loved each other, we always had, though we had missed saying it very often until just the last few years. I thanked him for all the ways he had been my big brother and has taken care of me; getting me jobs, working with me, being proud of me. He told me he thought he had been to hard on me and asked me to forgive him. I did because I thought he really needed some forgiveness in his life. Not just for what he did to me, what he had done to me was pretty minimal, but the forgiveness we all need for lives that were often directed by fear and loneliness and some deep misunderstood wounds.
I drove back to Berkeley that day with a deep feeling of completeness, it was done, nothing stood between us now. We were really ready to be brothers. I also made personal promises to spend more time with my brother in the days and weeks, and I hoped, years ahead. I wanted more of this sweetness in my life. I needed more of this sweetness in my life.
My brothered died last week before I could see him again. I am sad but I still feel more complete than I felt before. He gave me a gift that no one else could have given to me. Chuck and I felt God was at work here, we talked about that as well.
I will always remember the last conversation I had with my big brother as I will always remember the last conversation I had with my twin sister before her death. I will carry them as gifts and they will make me stronger and better and a little wiser as I come closer to my last conversation with the people I love.
(Just a note: I have told my granddaughter that I can't eat so much garbage anymore and I have to ride my bike more so that I an play with her children someday. That means I have time to work on some very wise and wonderful last words to be remembered by.)
P.S. This evening over one hundred surfers will take part in a "paddle-out" in my brother's honor. They will form a circle out in his beloved ocean at sunset and remember his life. It is taking place at the bottom of Tioga Ave, Sand City which is Chuck's home break. They will have a big bonfire and party following the paddle-out -- I am sure they will have some great "Chuck Stories" to share. Press HERE to read my brother's obituary
Reporting from my place in the world
7 comments:
My condolences about your brother, Karl. I'm glad that you had such a significant final conversation with Chuck.
You and Oprah: leaving me in tears. Damn you. Thanks for sharing.
PS: Wish I knew him.
I'm so sorry for your loss. It sounds incredibly bittersweet. I'm glad that, since you had the time to reconcile, the sweetness that you described will be what lasts, what becomes in its own way eternal. Still, I know it is a painful loss, and again, I'm sorry it had to come.
Such a moving tribute. I called my brothers right after I read it to tell them I love them. So sorry to hear...
Karl,
Nice blog entry. Thanks for sharing. So sorry to hear of your brother's death.
Monte
Karl - I'm so sorry for your loss - like Curtis, you left me in tears as well. I'm so glad you were able to have that last conversation.
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