My condolences to you and your family, Freckafree. I’m a baby-of-the-family, too, and there’s only 2 of the 4 of us left.
Scott sounds like a wonderful person, and I’m glad you got some lucid time with him at the end. When you get a chance, and feel up to it, I’d love to hear more about him, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that.
{{{{{Freckafree}}}}}
My condolences.
Condolences to you and your family. Thanks for sharing a bit about your brother.
My condolences to you and yours, freekafree.
My sympathies, freckafree. May the Divine Presence comfort you and your family, along with all who mourn Zion and Jerusalem.
I’m so glad you were able to say goodbye. You have experienced a great deal of pain, and come through it with grace and wisdom.
Thank you for taking the time to share your brother with us, I am a better person for having read that post.
May your pain be short-lived and your memories be rich and lasting.
freckafree I can’t imagine what you are feeling now. I haven’t yet lost a sibling or a parent.
My condolences. I’ll mention you and the family in my prayers tonight. And go to IHOP, it sounds as if it would be a good way to remember your brother.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
My condolences as well.
freckafree–I’m sorry for your troubles.
We’re here.
Talk.
My condolences.
We’re looking down this barrel as well; Mr. S is the youngest of seven kids, and his oldest brother is 20 years older, about 73. One sister is already gone (died of skin cancer in 1986 at age 41). One of these days we’ll start getting those calls . . .
You know, I always participate in condolence threads when there is one, even when I felt kinda dumb for posting nothing more than the equivalent of “Me, too.”
But it really is a great comfort to read all your notes, and I am very appreciative. I’ll never again question the meanginfulness of offering my sympathies to a Doper I only know via the Boards.
Some memories of Scott:
Scott joined the Navy (in the days before “don’t ask, don’t tell” – it didn’t work out so well for him) and was serving on the U.S.S. Lake Champlain when it was the recovery vessel for an unmanned Project Gemini space capsule. I always thought that was cool.
When Scott came back to the family after 24 years of absence, the thing I was immediately struck by was how much like the rest of us sibs he was – his sense of humor, his mannerisms and facial expressions, his laugh. Here he and I had never known each other as adults until that moment, and we had the same favorite book, among other things. It was quite uncanny.
I really don’t know what Scott did for a living for most of his life, but the job from which he retired on disability was as a cook on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. That man could cook! He taught me how to make roux for gumbo in the microwave. The Thanksgiving after Dad died, we all got up that morning to find that Scott (who’d been up since 4 a.m., as was his habit from all those years cooking for the rig crew) had baked a pan of the most fabulous pastry, which he’d thrown together from the staples Mom had on hand.
Scott was the family genealogist. Interesting, considering that he was estranged from us for so long. He was very active in numerous genealogy forums and was the “go to” guy on any “Now, how are we related to So-and so?” kind of family questions.
In addition to the piano, Scott played the organ. I think he must have started out taking lessons to be a church organist, but he went on to become an accomplished theater organist. In his little efficiency apartment, Scott had a “virtual organ” set-up for his computer, complete with keyboards, foot pedals, and software to emulate various voicings and registrations. Scott knew that my 14-y-o son had expressed interest in taking organ lessons in addition to the piano and violin he has been studying. One of the last times I saw Scott, he wanted to make sure I found someone for my son to study with who would not limit him to church organ.
Jane arranged for Scott’s body to be donated to the state medical school and requested that his ashes be returned to us. Ann was cremated when she died, and we wanted to have her ashes interred with our parents. However, her passive-aggressive psycho son “forgot” to sign the form releasing her remains to the cemetery and then bombarded Jane with threats of legal action for taking his mother’s remains out of state without his permission. Consequently, Ann’s urn has been in the top of Jane’s front closet for the past five years. So when Scott’s ashes come back, we’re going to put him in the urn with Ann, add the ashes of their beloved cat, and finally put everyone to rest with Mom and Dad.
Sorry this post went on so long. Thanks, all, for your thoughts of support and comfort. It really does mean a lot.
I’m so sorry, feckafree, he sounds like an intersting person to have known.
I am sorry for you loss.
Very sorry for your loss, freckafree. But I’m glad you got to see your brother again at the end, and thanks for letting us get to know him a bit through these stories.
Not at all - I’m always inspired to hear people remember those who have touched their lives. To me, it is the most important way to honour those whom we love when they are gone.
{{freckafree}}
I’m sorry for your loss. My thoughts are with you and the rest of your family.
I am so sorry for your loss.
So sorry to hear about your brother, freckafree; you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. {{{{{{{{{freckafree}}}}}}}}}}
So sorry to hear of your loss, freckafree. I too enjoyed hearing about your brother. A little bit of him will now live with the rest of us. Eternal rest, grant unto him oh Lord, and let Perpetual Light shine upon him, amen.