Now I'm a pretty private person and during all the years I've been a member, I don't thnk I've ever written about my personal life. Today I'm breaking the string and telling a story. In the early spring of 1990 I lost my highschool sweatheart of a wife of 25 years to breast cancer. Well, I'm the oldest of my siblings and my kid brother asked me to go on a Canadian fishing trip that summer and I accepted. Well, the kid and I fished a lot that week together and he was always taking pictures and bsing me trying to get me out of some depth of depression.
Anyway, a couple months ago he came over to the house and told us he had pancratic cancer and it'd spread a great amount and that he didn't have long to live. He went on to say that he had two surprises for me that I knew nothing about. He handed me an old 20ga Topper that was my 1st shotgun and I’d thought the old man had sold it on me 60+ years ago. Then he brought out a poster-size photo of me taken when we were fishing that summer in 1990. Unbeknownst to me he had it blown-up and he had it hanging in his pool room all these years and thought I'd like to have it as a remembrance to the peaks and valleys of 1990.
Since that time he liked for me, since my memory has always been better, to call and tell him remembrances/stories of things we did together or text him so some someone could read the story to him. Well, I was told last night Hospice is with him every day, he's taking Morphine steadily and he has someone with him round the clock and now is delusional. His time is about up it appears and I just took a look at that poster-size photo that hangs over my cable-building workbench he took of me and thought I'd break a tiny bit away from my norm of privacy today and tell you all a story of brothers.
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