Saying Goodbye

Outside of Salt Lake City this afternoon, one of my oldest and dearest friends will say goodbye to her big brother for the last time.  After fighting leukemia and its side effects for almost two years, his body gave out on him last Saturday.

Joe and I had not seen each other in almost 20 years.  We met in high school when his sister Eileen (a Junior to my mere Freshman) defended me from a bully in study hall.  I loved her instantly.   Having had an extremely dysfunctional home life back then,  I gravitated towards people that had a more "normal" setting at home.  Mom and Dad under the same roof (that usually liked each other) was a big start.  From the first moment I walked in their already full house, they made me feel like I was one of their own.  They "adopted" me and I was welcome with open arms.  All four years of high school (and then some) were spent in and out of that home.  I helped with chores.  I learned to drive from the passenger seat of the old station wagon while Eileen worked the pedals.   We even took her dad to the Father-Daughter dance together one year when my dad couldn't make it.   Joe, because he was older (a Senior to my Freshman - way cool!) was the object of our torture.  And by torture I mean just annoying him to the point of insanity with our singing of the latest pop songs at ridiculous volumes (especially Madonna and Prince), running around the house, choreographing dance routines in the hallway outside of his bedroom while he was trying to do homework, food fights, and just general obnoxious teen girl behavior.  Their parents were "Mom" and "Dad" (labels of love and respect I still refer to them as).  I am honored that they allowed me to be a part of their family.

Despite having lost touch with him as we became adults and had families of our own, I was shocked and saddened to hear of his passing.  I will forever remember his smile that could light up a room.  The way that he stood watch (from the other side of the room) at the first "college party" I went to, making sure that I was okay.  And the way that, no mater how many times I corrected him after high school, I was always going to be "Jenny" to him.  I can close my eyes and hear his voice as he says it, the twinkle in his eyes because he knows that it drive me nuts now.  You will be missed, old friend.  Thank you for being the closest thing to a big brother I had.

If you are interested, you can read a lovely tribute to Joe's life from the Salt Lake Tribune.