My brother was a good soul. Sometimes you had to look underneath his chaotic behavior and temper to find it. He had a heart of gold but he rarely applied it to himself.

David was my big brother. He was 9 years older than me. There was a decent gap in between my siblings and my introduction into the world. My oldest sister Marsha has 20 years on me, my next two sisters Kelley and Tania 10, David 9 and Sabrina 6. My other siblings that came along after my mother’s final marriage were Geanie 9 and Rocky by 7. Sorry Joe I always forget about you and I don’t mean to. Living all the way out in South Dakota the whole time I think you spent 2 summers with us and I gotta be honest I have no clue of your age I know you’re in your 40s. Shit Linda you too! Although we’ve only briefly met and one of those was your father’s funeral.

I have a rather large family y’all. I love each and every one of them in a different way but all the same if that makes sense. Being the youngest in the household you got knocked around a bit (not in a violent way) but I’ve had a fairly good relationship with all of them. If anything I need to work on reaching out to them more. 10 years at my old company put me in a chamber of seclusion for years and after a while it just becomes an afterthought.

Still doesn’t make it right and I’m working on that it’s part of my reckoning. I’m on a sudden tangent here..

David and I weren’t close when it comes to brotherly love. My first memories of my brother are when he was a teenager. He had long shaggy hair (it was the 70’s) and even at an early age it seemed he always had a mustache. In all my memories he’s always had one even when he finally shaved it off in his early 40s. I’m beginning to think he was born with it. David was a natural athlete. He was eventually an inch shorter than me but could slam dunk a basketball in high school. He played baseball too and walked around with a skateboard under his arm. He participated in quite a few lightweight bodybuilding competitions. Physically things always came easy for him. Before all of his injuries that is.

I looked up to my big brother growing up. Just like you’re supposed to. I was a little scared of him because David had quite the temper. Physically he might’ve pushed me a few times or acted like he was gojng to hit me but I can’t recall him ever actually doing so. My sisters probably would’ve kicked his ass.

Your uncle wasn’t a violent person but he seemed to surround himself with it in his environment. I’ve never met his father, my mother’s first marriage but my mother never had too many nice things to say about him. Mom had quite a temper on her too so I guess David never stood a chance.

Athletics were my brother’s passion. He played and watched every sport. Saturdays and Sundays during the brief time we roomed together he was always watching the big game and every little game around it. Football especially. My brother was a Clemson fan and I’ll have to sit and think on his favorite NFL team. It might’ve been the cowboys? I know it’s Rocky’s team I’ll have to come back to that or I may not.

David wrecked his knee playing basketball in his teens. He went up for a basket, came back down on his knee and it went the other way. Knee surgeries in the 70s were extremely invasive. His knee would never be the same. To bring in some brevity he would wreck that knee a few more times. Usually right when he was getting his life back together. Chaos followed my brother like a horsefly on an uphill hike.

You ever meet or know someone who could never catch a break? That’s my brother.

When we moved to Piedmont after my parent’s divorce I’d see David pop in and out like a revolving door. Our little 2 bedroom 1 bath house became a sibling hostel over the years where we’d all come to visit or lick our wounds from poor life decisions. My mother always being the host, my stepfather always busting his ass to feed them all.

David always seemed to be the one that came back the most. Break ups, injuries, suspended licenses or just down on his luck.

Off and on I’d say we shared the same bedroom for over 20 years. Or it feels that way. That’s one way to bond I suppose. As I said before I looked up to my brother. He was always strong, muscular even when he was halfway crippled multiple knee operations.

He’d kill for me and I don’t think it would’ve taken much.

When he was away on his own it seemed we’d receive a lot phone calls concerning my brother as the subject. Alcohol and addictions steered my brother’s life and decision making. I can’t tally how many DUIs and DUS David had but it was more than 6 and less than a dozen. All of his cars were purchased for speed. My brother had the zest for life but couldn’t keep up with the responsibilities that come with it. He had a Monte Carlo for awhile that always had that distinct skunky smell to it. He loved to drive fast. It mimicked his lifestyle.

Often times he’d sell his cars to pay off debts that piled up in between DUIs while he tried to repair his life. David did try to fix things. He knew his life was tumultuous and a fair amount of his life was spent cleaning himself up. Unfortunately he’d keep sliding back.

David chased the quick money grabs. He sold Amway for a bit and colloidal minerals if any of you have ever heard of those. He’ll he might’ve sold Tupperware. One of the reasons why I’m so indifferent to these money making schemes is that my brother spent half his life chasing them.

Its personal.

Alcohol controlled my brother’s life. Much more than it ever controlled mine. I had one DUI in my early 20s and never touched my car the whole time when my license was suspended. My brother pushed things much farther than me. I spent a lot of time as his taxi.

Story time

While everyone was sitting tight in their houses during Hurricane Hugo I was driving down hwy 20 trying to find my brother in the pouring rain. He’d driven his car in a ditch I believe it was his Monte Carlo and while trying to pull it out he tweaked his knee. He was heavily intoxicated and had crawled to a phone booth to call my parents. My stepfather was furious for a half a dozen good reasons so I snuck off into the hurricane to find my brother. Regardless of his state of affairs he was my brother. Nothing would stop me from finding him.

It wasn’t hard to find the emergency lights in the ditch and my brother sitting next to it in the pouring rain. David had the affinity for dramatics. I pulled him into the my stepfather’s Silverado and brought him home. The bourbon and weather had made him a little hard to deal with. I was only 17 and still wasn’t a match for his temper. We screamed at each other while I dodged tree branches flying across the roadway all the while avoiding ditches flooding with rain water. When we got home I instructed David to go straight to bed.

Instead he chose to jaw at my stepfather and some blows were exchanged. Mostly by Tom. David was in no sorts to fight anyone. My mother screamed probably the loudest screeched I’d ever heard from her. That was enough for me. I picked my brother’s wet drunk ass off the floor and we got back in the car again until I found a parking lot with no trees and we sat in that lot while Hugo rained hell on us until dawn. I was too tired to care.

My brother the next morning had no recollection of what happened. I don’t blame him.

David and I moved in together when I was 20. We nabbed a one bedroom apartment in overlook apts. We’d rotate who got the bedroom but most of the time it was my brother who got the bed. I didn’t feel right letting him sleep on a sofa with all of his injuries. I

should mention another nagging injury of his. It was a bad one. When he was working for circuit city he tweaked his back lifting a garage roll up door that had a snag in it. He had actually reported the snag and in the report it was mentioned that an injury may occur if it wasn’t taken care of.

My brother, with the luck of a bird in a lion’s cage, was the one that got injured. It fucked his back up permanently. Aside from his multiple knee operations he now had back issues and multiple surgeries which got him hooked on pain killers. Not recreationally. Out of necessity.

He sued Circuit City and got a small amount for his troubles. With that check he bought his dream car, a 280Z. He always wanted one. David needed that car like a I need a hairdryer. He flipped it while cornering too fast off exit 35 on I-85 My parent’s home exit. He didn’t get a scratch on him. My stepfather might’ve pulled him out I can’t recall.

Real quick, I haven’t said much about my stepfather Tom yet. The hell that man put up with concerning my siblings over the years is worth the Medal of Honor. I miss that man greatly.

The time stamps on my brother’s adventures are hard to pin down. They were replicated quite a few times. I was also out and about in my new world of independence so sometimes we were just passing through time.

I recall one conversation he had with me while he was driving me home from work. I was around 15 and he spilled the beans on my whole parents separation. Spouted off about how mom married my dad for security and never loved him. Not sure why he felt the need to share that with me but that was just David’s way. I never forgave him for that.

When we lived together we got along fine. I had just turned 21 so it was surreal hanging with my brother at all the same bars. I recall hanging out at Night Times at the Hilton on Haywood and someone recognizing me as David’s brother. He proceeded to insult my brother to provoke me and I hit him in the ear. Later I found out he was an offi duty police officer who had a hard on for my brother. When I told my brother that story he laughed for two days while in between saying “you’re not so bad for a shithead”.

It was probably the only time we bonded.

It wasn’t that long after I was chasing him around the small galley kitchen trying to smash his head with a pot.

Brotherly love man.

His first marriage was to a mousy girl named Angela I think. I was in it as one of the grooms I was excited to be a part of something good in my brother’s life.

It didn’t last long.

My brother’s first love was a young lady named Pam. I liked Pam she was beautiful and my brother doted on her. They were together for awhile. I’d say it was David’s first love. I can’t speak for Pam but it might’ve been the same. My brother can make love hard man. She did it though. Pam was the only one of David’s significant others that I liked. I truly believe they were soulmates. It still didn’t last. That’s the thing with soulmates, just because you were meant to be together doesn’t mean it’ll work out. Just makes the heartbreak harder.

This ain’t Disney.

I don’t think he ever got over Pam.

I don’t think she ever got over him.

David and I got along most of the time. I dreaded getting phone calls from him because it was never about the weather.

Unless he owed the weather money.

I had more fortunate turn of events than my brother. As much as alcohol tried to control my life there were separations. I never allowed alcohol to affect my careers. Not after my first DUI left me unemployed. I was more functional than my brother.

We had a big falling out over some money he borrowed from me and went sometime without speaking.

He got remarried to some therapist he’d been seeing and if there was a ceremony I wasn’t there for it. I wasn’t a fan of hers and I can’t tell you exactly why. David had cleaned himself up a little but with David you could never be sure. We’d see each other at holidays but it was a tad different after our big falling out. In my mind it was always “it’ll pass with time”. All of our arguments usually did.

September 4th, 2004 my mother called me while I was driving back from vacation at the beach. My birthday is the 5th so I figured mom was getting a head start. It wasn’t the phone call I was excepting.

As soon as I could say hello my mother was sobbing into the phone

“David’s dead!”

I was 3 hours away from my parent’s home. I’ve never felt so far away from my mother. I might as well of been on the moon. She couldn’t tell me how he died she was crying too hard. I pulled over to collect myself and set my truck to home. My real home.

My brother had pulled over to help a car broke down on the side of the road and he was jumped and hit over the head with a pipe and robbed. I believe that story although with my brother sometimes you just can’t be sure.

He went home and took some painkillers he always had on hand. I guess he took one or two too many and he never woke up

To this day 20 years later you have to hold me down to take an Advil.

My brother passed. As did all of his problems.

If you ever have an argument with someone you love never let it hang. Close that door, have that talk. We never did

Watching my mother bury my brother will always be one of my toughest memories. This isn’t part of the game plan of life. She was never the same.

I don’t do funeral viewings. I never have. I didn’t go in to see my father, my stepfather or my brother. My mom did. I could hear her screaming “he’s so cold!” from outside of the room. She fainted on the way out. It might as well have been yesterday. That memory wil always be fresh. Sometimes I hate how my memory will hold onto certain life experiences. This one I could do without. It was the only year my mom forgot to wish me a happy birthday. I didn’t notice but she did. She called me a week later bawling about it.

My brother was buried at Greenville memorial gardens cemetery.

His ex girlfriend Pam from 20 years ago left a note on his grave. I never read it but my mother did. I hope it made her heart deal with his death a little easier.

Mom was never the same. Who can blame her?

No one spoke for my brother at his funeral and that still bothers me.

I hate that you (Lily) will never get to know your uncle. Aside from all of his shortcomings your uncle would’ve doted on you. He had the biggest heart he just didn’t know how to handle everything else around it.

Your uncle’s life does not reflect the good human he tried to be.

Everyone that knew him needs to hear that.

I was watching a clip of Billy Bob Thornton and something he had said about his brother’s death struck me as relatable as it gets.

“I have to really force myself to think that things are going to be OK in terms of worrying about my family, myself or one of my friends. … There’s a melancholy in me that never goes away. I’m 50 percent happy and 50 percent sad at any given moment. … I don’t want to forget my brother. I don’t want to forget what it felt like when he died, because he deserves that — that’s how important he was to me. So, if I have to suffer and I have to be sad for the rest of my life, and if I have to be lonely without him… then that’s the way I honor him.”

20 years this week. As you go through life and experience the passing of friends and family you can feel parts of your soul getting lighter as certain ones pass. I’ve been fortunate, if that’s even the appropriate word of holding onto loved ones for most of my life. The four big ones for me are my father, brother, stepfather and my lovely mother.

A part of me has died with all of them.

As it should be.

I often hear of when you pass you’ll see one of your loved ones coming into your sight to take you back home. It’s odd that I’ve always pictured it being my brother. Maybe he thinks it’ll be debt paid for us almost dying in that damn hurricane. Don’t worry yall I don’t plan on going anywhere soon, I know I have a lot of things I’m suppose to do first and I just got started. How do I know? Because I’ve seen it but that’s another story for another time.

Hey David, I miss you shithead.