When I was almost five years old, I accidentally dropped my newborn baby brother, Jimmy, on the floor. My mother had put him on her bed and asked me to stand there for a minute to watch him, but I couldn't help myself and picked him up. Needless to say, when he hit the floor, he screamed. My mother sent me to my room, and my two older brothers, Lester and Bobby, taunted me by slipping notes under my bedroom door, declaring, "You rot!" "You fink!", which made me cry. Such was the fate as the only girl in the King family.
On the upside, as the only girl, I had slightly preferential treatment: my own room; not having to wear (many) hand-me-downs; my own "girl" toys; and so on. Five years older than I, Les was the brother who watched out for me. When he and Bobby went swimming at Pine Valley Pool and my mother made them take me along, I got to ride on the cross-bar of Les' bike. When we went to the Saturday matinee at the Majestic, Les held my hand while we crossed the street. And when Bobby, who was closest to my age, tormented me, Les stood up for me - most of the time.
By the teen years, despite the occasional slip-ups, we all got along pretty well, and as young adults the four of us became friends. But, as often happens, distance and our own families took precedence. Bobby had a 20-year career in the Air Force, traveled all over the world, then settled in Washington with his family before retiring in Nevada; Les moved with his family to Florida, then retired in Georgia. |
Jimmy and his family remained in Massachusetts, as did I and my family. We all stayed in touch through Christmas cards, the occasional letter (before email), and rare phone calls. We did manage to coordinate rare get-togethers, and when we did we always had a blast, but these get-togethers were too few and far between.
Dad passed away in 1997. After Mom joined him in 2005, my three brothers and I sent a flurry of emails back in forth in an effort to reconnect by planning a "sibling reunion" for the four of us and our spouses. Dates, places, and functions were tossed around, and, although a couple of us did manage to get together at various times over the subsequent years, we were never able to agree on a time and place for all of us to meet.
This will be one of the true sorrows of my life. You see, my big brother Lester joined my parents this past Monday at the age of 64. He died suddenly, and it was a shock to us all. I was naive enough to think we had lots of time, that we all could get together next year or the year after that. But time ran out, and it breaks my heart.
Anyway...I had a total knee replacement a few weeks ago. Having had both his knees replaced over the past few years, Bobby kept tabs on me and served as a valuable resource in my early recovery. I didn't hear from Les as often, but when I got a quick email from him this past Sunday asking, "How's the knee?" (a few years back, he, too, had a knee replacement - an apparent genetic weakness in our family), I wrote back, telling him of my improvement and aches and pains. On Monday, I read his email advice:
"The physical therapy is key. I worked hard at home and did all the exercises they told me to do. Got through it about a week earlier that way. Keep in touch. My best to Rick. Love, Les"
When my nephew, Greg, called on Monday to share the sad news about his Dad's passing, I realized the email I read late Monday morning had been sent on Sunday afternoon. By the time I read it, Les was already gone. His email was his last act of looking out for me, and I treasure it as such.
So thank you, Big Brother, for being there for me. I will love you always. Please say "hi" to Mom and Dad for me.
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