John & I had the pleasure of taking my oldest brother, Peter, out for lunch. It was good to see him able to get about without a cane, to hear his voice back at it's usual depth & verve.
On the drive home, John & I mused on the many joys & insights that keep coming our way, thanks to the deepening connection to my bro. Although part of me knew that Mim's death was an incalculable loss to him, the fact of that really only hit me over lunch.
This past week kicked off March Madness, when college teams start their march to the national championship. Peter asked if I remembered how much Mim loved sports, then shared what the two of them did on the first day of the Madness, which featured seemingly endless basketball games played out over three or four different channels. He'd drive over to New Jersey with a 6-pack of beer or Smirnoff spritzers, swing by a Wawa to pick up a bunch of sides, then - from noon to midnight - the two would watch the games together.
Even when their health kept them from physically connecting, they'd phone up each other during games, review them during their daily call.
The two of them shared so much, right up to Mim's last days. Listening to him talk, the happy energy in his voice, the way his face totally lit up remembering those long hours of watching together, brought home in a new way what Peter lost when she slipped from us. Wrapping him in tender hugs.
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