Thoughts on One Sibling's Passing

A few years after my mother passed away, I decided it was not healthy to “recognize” the anniversary of her passing.  You can’t really call it a celebration, but “honoring” and grieving over my mom’s death on the same day in January held me back.  Deciding to celebrate her birthday instead was a very healing decision.  I still note the day she died on my calendar, but over time, it’s simply become a date.  I’ve tried to do the same thing with my brother’s death.

My brother died on November 15…and his funeral was on November 18…exactly three years ago today.  It’s been hard to pass up his “death anniversary” this year because of another death that occurred around this time of year.  John F. Kennedy.  Obviously, the day JFK was shot changed this country, and that’s why we see so much coverage, especially on this 50^th anniversary of his death.  Having all the media and the entire country recall the death of one person can’t help but spill over and cause me to think a bit more about my brother’s death than I’d like.  Well, not about his death, but about the void left behind.

My mother’s death devastated me.  I’ve not admitted it before, but I had to take anti-depressants after her death to try to cope.  It turned out the treatment was far more damaging and I had to end up dealing with things on my own, resulting in the realization I mentioned before…to focus on her life and not her death.  Jeff’s death has affected me in a far different manner.  His illness leading to his death was far more painful.  His death was more of a message to me.

I guess we all expect parents to die before us, but most of us never want our mommy or daddy to go away.  (Yes, I have referred to her as “mommy” more so after she died).  It hurts when they’re gone, but it’s the natural progression of things.  But when a sibling dies, a piece of our own soul dies as well.

Jeff’s illness scared me on so many levels.  Having a sibling die forces one to face one’s own mortality.  We’re from the same generation, which means death can come knocking on my door at any time.  I’ll say it again…it scared me.

My brother and I weren’t incredibly close.  We weren’t the types to call daily or to keep in touch with every aspect of our lives.  We were seven years apart in age and that’s an eternity when you’re growing up…and it takes a lot of adulthood to start closing that gap.  We were JUST at that closure when he left.  That hurt.  It’s not his fault…but I felt that a life-long bond that had just formed was brutally ripped apart.  I’ll say it again…it hurt.

And then there was the realization that despite not being stereotypically close, we were indeed close.  So many times after he passed, I thought of calling him to ask about a family member, or to call him to discuss the latest WVU game.  When I would geocache and come across a little adventure I’d want to share, I would start to email him.  But he was gone.  I never knew how much of me was shared with my brother.  And now that was gone.

Every person has a unique relationship with his or her sibling.  My relationship with Jeff is far different that yours with your sibling.  My reaction to his death is different than yours will be…or was.

I’ve mentioned here before that Jeff’s death became an inspiration and that I started this blog and campaign in his honor.  That’s true.  But I also started it out of fear.  I had to know if I was at risk of a similar melanoma diagnosis.  I started it from the hurt because a bond between us was torn, and I hoped the campaign would somehow mend that.  I started it to keep my brother here, at least his memory.  While I receive compliments and assurance from others that I’m carrying out that mission successfully…and that he would be proud, I have so wished that I could hear that from Jeff.

I’m not an overly religious man.  I’m perhaps more spiritual than anything.  I also try not to be sappy.  But on Saturday, November 15 at about three years to the minute of his death, I was walking along the beach with my daughter.  It was a cloudy, gray day.  I looked out over the ocean and I saw a sight that gave me that assurance that Jeff was indeed aware…and was still here in spirit.  I saw a rainbow within the clouds.  (The photo I took doesn’t do it justice…the colors I saw were so vivid and bright)  Yeah, I know it’s a natural phenomenon related to ice crystals and light refraction…I’ve seen it many times before.  But for some reason, this sighting reassured me.  This sight said…everything.  This was Jeff.

I’ve felt scared, hurt and empty.  Now I feel assured and recharged.  November 15 will always be a date to mark the day my brother died.  But it’ll also be merely another day on the calendar…another day t o live.

The Christmas Ball

I originally posted the story of the Christmas Ball in 2006 in my personal blog.  I re-posted here last year, but then removed as I entered the story in a writing contest (I didn't win).  I've rewritten the story this year from a retrospective view.  Please enjoy.

 

On the east side of my house is a small dining room.  In the corner of the dining room sits a small shelving unit.  On the shelves are displayed various figurines and knick knacks honoring the holiday season.  On the bottom shelf sits an ugly metal cube.  Within the cage-like cube sits a tattered and scarred golf ball.  And within this golf ball rests my fondest Christmas memory.

It all started about 30 years ago when my brother Jeff and I were golfing.  We were neither skilled nor rich (which hasn’t changed at all for me).  At some point, we both spotted a lost golf ball in the tall grass with an “Elmer Fike” logo printed upon it. (Elmer Fike was a local chemical company just up the river from the golf course).  Finding a “free” ball was as valuable as a birdie for two novice hackers such as us.  Naturally, we both laid claim to the find, but rather than wrestle in the middle of the fairway, we decided that whichever of us won that hole would win the ball.  (To this day, I still think he cheated).

A few years after that, we were still young and broke, but we made sure to exchange gifts every Christmas despite living hundreds of miles apart.  We made sure our gifts were small enough to package and ship cheaply.  Mind you that this was way before gift cards.  Naturally, each gift exchange included one token prank gift.  One year, I received a small tootsie-roll shaped package.  It turned out to be an empty toilet paper roll with the golf ball inside.  (I’m guessing that he felt guilty about cheating).  Not to be out done, I returned the ball to Jeff the next year in similar packaging.  This continued on for a number of years with the joke being that we knew what the gift would be.  Family members would look under the tree before Christmas to find the golf ball.  It turned into a “Where’s Waldo” of presents.

One year, I decided to change the rules a bit.  While shopping for a gift in a toy and game store, I found a 3D puzzle that looked like it could possibly hold a golf ball.  To dismantle the puzzle, several complex moves were required.  I felt this was the perfect “packaging” to totally annoy Jeff on Christmas morning.  Little did I know, a Christmas tradition was born that would be followed by many.

The next year, I did not receive a tootsie-roll package from Jeff, but a box big enough to hold a softball or grapefruit.  Inside was a golf ball-shaped candle.  Naturally, inside of the wax was the golf ball.  In the spirit of unwrapping the gift, I lit the wick later that night.  It stayed lit until a putrid odor emitted from the candle.  The golf ball was on fire!  This would be the first of many scars.

The Ball before being caged

Over the years, the golf ball had been packaged many ways.  One year I inserted the ball into a snow globe and it somehow survived the shipment without leaking.  Another year I had inserted it into a home-made ornament and sent it to his wife, who was a teacher and had a special tree set up with only hand-made ornaments from her students.  The first Christmas after my kids were born, I packed it in a “used” diaper using oatmeal and melted chocolate for that realistic visual effect.  Yet another year, I enclosed it within a stack of super-glued Lego bricks.

Not to be outdone, Jeff returned the ball to me in very unique packaging as well.  In honor of my cats, he once wrapped it in a basketball-sized ball of yarn.  Another year, he encased it in a commemorative brick.  He had also sent it within a “kissing ball” decoration, and more deliciously he packaged it in a huge chocolate kiss one year as well as his last shipment in hard candy.  You can understand all the scars on the ball…but each one represented something more special.

I shipped it one last time back in 2006.  I asked a local machine shop if they could enclose it in a metal cage of sorts.  They were eager to help, but alas, a little too eager.  Not only did they enclose it, they welded it within hardened steel that was essentially impossible to penetrate.  In retrospect, I should have stressed that it could be somehow opened.  Unfortunately, that brought an end to the exchange as there was no way to remove the ball without destroying it.  Jeff supposedly kept the ball in his office at work as a conversation piece and paper weight.

While that seemed like a sad ending for a great tradition (which was followed by radio stations and newspapers), it created a great trophy.  We decided to start a new tradition of exchanging retro toys (think Etch-a-sketch, etc.) but it really wasn’t the same.  My last prank gift received was a t-shirt and stuffed bear advertising Cocoa Wheats hot cereal.  (When I was a kid, Cocoa Wheats was the ONLY thing I would eat for breakfast).  I received that during the Christmas season of 2009.  The stuffed bear still sits on my night stand.

Cocoa and Zack

As you know, Jeff passed away in November 2010.  When I went home to West Virginia for the funeral, my sister-in-law brought one thing along from their home in Ohio…the Christmas Ball.  She knew I wanted to have it.  I needed to have it.  Ever since then, I keep the ball, metal cage and all, on a shelf beside my computer desk.  It rests between a tacky WVU piggy bank and an autographed football from the 1977 WVU football team…both gifts from my brother.  But during the holiday season, I bring it out along with all the red and green and silver and gold to showcase and celebrate the holiday season.  For me, that scarred golf ball in an ugly welded cage is the best symbol of Christmas joy and family love I could  imagine.

My Interview with UV Skinz

As I’ve shared from my Facebook page, UV Skinz contacted me a few weeks ago to interview me for their “My Story” segment.  I was pleased with their entry and it was a pleasure corresponding with their blogging guru, Kalisha Frazier.  As promised in a previous blog, I’d like to share the environment from which I gave the interview.

Kalisha and I played email tag for over a week before we finally narrowed down a day for me to call.  I still had problems finding a time to spend on such a call, but the opportunity arose in, of all places, the waiting room in a dermatologist’s office.  My wife was visiting for an appointment (more on that in a bit) and I figured I had a good 20 minutes or so of free time to call.  I sat in the back corner of a relatively large waiting room while my kids buried their noses into their iPods.

I think I might have called Kalisha during her lunch as she seemed a little surprised to hear from me.  Again, we decided on the day, but never narrowed down the time.  She was kind enough to take the call despite it being near her lunch time and she was a real pleasure to talk with.  She asked questions about my family and upbringing as well as more detailed questions regarding my involvement with this blog and melanoma awareness in general.  This is where things started to get interesting.  You see, I had forgotten where I was sitting as we talked…and as the conversation leaned heavily on skin cancer and melanoma, I noticed others in the room intently listening I to my conversation.  In fact, one of the office workers was dusting the furniture nearby…barely paying attention to the actual dusting.

My focus was still on the conversation, but I couldn’t help but realize that my conversation was being shared with others.  I made sure my answers to Kalisha’s questions weren’t all gloom and doom…after all some people were probably waiting for an appointment for a skin exam.  But at the same time, we talked about questions people should ask their dermatologist.  I’m pretty sure that one woman was actually taking notes!

My wife eventually came out of her appointment after 30 minutes or so, and I thanked Kalisha for her time and for opportunity to share my story.  As we walked out, I leaned to the one office worker and apologized to her for having been too chatty on my cell phone in the waiting room.  She responded, “No worries…I found it quite educational!”

And I guess that’s what it’s about; educating, informing, or just making others aware.  I thank UV Skinz again for the opportunity to share, and I thank Cary Dermatology for allowing me a little soapbox in the corner of their waiting room.

As for my wife’s appointment, I had mentioned before that her doctor advised her to see a plastic surgeon to have a reemerging dysplastic nevi removed.  He suggested the surgeon due to the depth of the spot, which previously was found benign.  She has a consultation with the plastic surgeon in 12 days…I’ll keep you posted how that goes.  Thank you for your feedback which eventually led her to make the decision to have the spot removed.

A Birthday Gift to Jeff

My focus today is on my children as the twins turn 10 years old today.  But at the same time, I take a little moment to realize that today would have been my brother, Jeff’s 57^th birthday.  He took great pride that his niece and nephew “chose his birthday” to enter this world, so I’m sure he’s still looking down, beaming with pride.

I wondered what I would have given him for his birthday had he still been alive.  Chances are it would have simply been a birthday card and a phone call.  We never were big on gifts.  He also probably would have told me to spend the money on my kids.  He was unselfish that way.  But the other day, I discovered something that would have made him jump for joy…making it one fantastic birthday gift.

Jeff and his wife lived in Alabama several years ago.  I never had the chance to travel down to visit, so I never knew his neighbors or friends from the area.  Still, Jeff and Debbie had a way of being a part of the crowd…hosting parties, helping other people, attending neighborhood events…they were always among friends.  Anyhow, I believe they moved out of Alabama about 10 years ago, give or take a year.

Last week, my cousin Trish posted a photo of Jeff and I (our last photo which I’ve posted here before) on Facebook and offered up memories of Jeff.  Some people chimed in with their own thoughts, including a name I didn’t recognize.  Here’s what Taylor Wesson shared:

I use to live next door to Jeff and Debbie when they lived in Alabama. My mom and Debbie were like sisters so I called them Aunt and Uncle.  Jeff is the reason why I stopped going to tanning beds and I’m the only one out of my friends who lathers on tons of sunscreen.  My friends always question me why I care so much and I tell them about Jeff.  He's always on my mind when I’m outside (plus I’m fair and 18).  I sure do miss him!

Happy birthday brother…you’ve made a positive impact on the world and continue to do so!

"They Never Told Us Anything!"

I read string of FB comments about a friend of a friend who commented that they were too pale and needed to tan for the summer.  This person also stated that her mom “has melanoma real bad” but she has to be tan to go to a wedding.  The initial poster on FB asked what others would have said in response.  Some commented that perhaps the daughter (or even the mother) simply didn’t understand the cause and real details of melanoma.  A few days ago, I would have thought it unbelievable that someone with melanoma wouldn’t understand the dangers.  But now I can completely relate.

I talked with my sister-in-law the other day…Jeff’s wife.  We hadn’t talked in a long while, and even then our conversations were mostly emotional venting about my brother’s passing.  His death has been hard on all of us, but particularly hard on his wife.  Anyhow, our conversation this past weekend was a little bit more normal and chit-chatty.  Since we both seemed stronger to tackle a deeper discussion, I asked her a little about Jeff’s initial melanoma diagnosis in 2004.

My family isn’t the best at sharing personal or “bad” news.  And my worst personal flaw is maintaining close contact with anyone.  So the information I had about Jeff’s melanoma diagnosis in 2004 is sketchy at best.  All I recall is that he said he, “had melanoma on his back and they were going to cut it out.”  Later on, he mentioned that the surgery went well…”it was over before I realized it.”  That was pretty much all I knew about it.  With such info, I pretty much figured melanoma could “just be cut out.  Knowing what I know now, I asked my sister-in-law exactly what the diagnosis was back then.  Was he Stage 1?  Stage 2?  What other procedures were done?  The answer stunned me.

They were told he had malignant melanoma, but no stage was ever mentioned.  In fact, she never used the word “oncologist” at all.  She stated that a plastic surgeon performed the removal and the melanoma as pronounced fully removed.  Case closed.  Jeff was to visit the dermatologist every 6 months and that was it.  No scans.  No MRIs.  Nothing.

When the melanoma came back (with apparently no resistance at all) in 2010, it appeared on his face.  A “chemo cream” was prescribed and that was that.  Of course, in August 2010, it was discovered to be riddled in his brain and lungs.

My sister-in-law expressed anger.  “They never told us anything!  We had no idea that melanoma could spread to other organs!  Jeff was smart enough to now not to tan and was very careful with the sun, but we were never told to do any follow-up procedures!  She went on to tell me that when they visited MD Anderson, Dr. Hwu expressed total shock at the lack of common protocol followed.  

Based on what my sis-in-law shared, they just didn’t know.  And this scenario reminds me of another blog I read recently which discussed the difference between awareness and education.  Jeff and his wife were “aware” of melanoma, but they weren’t properly educated about it.

Let this serve as a reminder…to you and to the friend of a friend…that melanoma is a killer and it’s so much more than skin cancer.  Making people aware is important…making them understand is critical.

Don't Be Missed

Another Christmas has passed without my brother, Jeff.  He is included in so many holiday memories…from the EARLY Christmas mornings where we’d sneak around checking out Santa’s gifts, to the infamous Christmas golf ball, to more standard memories.  This year, more than last, he was truly missed.

He passed away in November last year…about the same time we all start decorating our houses for Christmas.  The post-funeral mourning sort of meandered its way into the holiday season…so missing him last year was more like an extension of his initial passing.  But this year, Christmas showed up with no pre-Thanksgiving grieving, but with the normal fanfare and anticipation that only one’s children can amplify to the most enjoyable levels.  No, this year we’d have no grieving period.  But damn was he missed.

Don’t get me wrong…I had a fantastic Christmas with my immediate family.  Santa confirmed to my kids that they were indeed good this past year…to record spoiling (and bankruptcy) levels.  The food prepared was delicious and filling.  And the company of my wife’s family visiting for Christmas dinner was excellent as always.  We always keep it simple and have ham sandwiches (real ham…not Oscar Meyer deli meat), three bean salad, potato salad…almost as if it were a summer picnic.  After dinner we exchanged gifts.  We surprised my in-laws by having their old 8mm home movies converted to DVD.  This of course spawned all sorts of stories of Christmases and relationships of the past.  This was exactly like the type of conversation Jeff and I would have had.

I laughed at their stories and had genuine interest of the various uncles and their hijinks of yester-year.  But deep inside, I missed my brother.  I wasn’t grieving any more…I was just missing him.

I’ve been suffering from blogger’s block lately because, frankly, I’ve had nothing but family and “Jeff thoughts” of late.  My intent in this blog was never to be a Jeff Grieving site…but to be an outlet to create awareness for skin cancer.  So in that regard, let me add one melanoma-related thought.

Melanoma kills people.  It kills family.  It makes those family members be missed.  To keep your loved ones from grieving your illness or your death, do what you can to prevent this mostly- preventable form of cancer.

Don’t be missed.

It's Been a Year...But I Know He's Watching

I have incredibly mixed emotions about today, November 15.  I’m greatly saddened that my only brother passed away from melanoma one year ago today.  And yet, in carrying on his campaign to raise melanoma and skin cancer awareness, I have “met” so many wonderful people and felt that I’ve contributed to the cause and grown as a person.  Don’t get me wrong…I would trade this great experience with BITNP in a heartbeat to have Jeff back.  But alas, that’s not to be.  So today, I choose not to commemorate his death, but honor the life he’s continued to instill in me.  I miss him…and think of him every day.  But I also know that he’s with me.  In fact, he told me so.

I used to keep another blog...one that shared random thoughts.  Some were funny…some were touching…many sucked.  But I enjoyed writing.  I never really knew what to write about...only that I enjoyed sharing my thoughts.  I had no real focus to my work, and I really only had one full time reader.  That was Jeff.  His passing is one reason I haven’t written in that blog for about a year.  My last posting was about…well, I’ll let you read it.  I’ll edit it a little, but the following is basically what I shared about a year ago:

If you’ve read some of my Facebook postings, you know that I engage in a hobby known as geocaching. Basically, geocaching is a global scavenger hunt. The location of hidden objects can be found on the website, Geocaching.com. If you type in an address and find the link to a map, you’ll see that there’s most likely a hidden object nearby. There are about 5,000 “treasures” hidden within a 10-mile radius of my house. In fact, there are well over a million such treasures, or caches, hidden world-wide from county parks or city blocks and even the International Space Station. I bet there’s one near you!

Caches are rated 1 to 5 for both difficulty and terrain with 1 being the easiest. Seeing as I’m not a rock climber or scuba diver, I tend to look for ones rated 1.5 or easier. Whenever I travel out of town, I can load the latest cache locations into my GPS along with previous logs from other geocachers and a description of what I’m looking for. Caches can range in size from smaller than a thimble to a rather large water-proof box. I’ve found all sorts, although there are some types that are more common than others.

A 35mm film canister makes a perfect geocache container. Other geocachers hide the caches for others to find. One simply places a log inside for geocachers to record their find and perhaps adds a coin or little trinket as a reward. All caches contain a log on which the finder will sign his or her geocaching name (mine is MountieAl). Most small caches contain only a log. The “treasure” is in the hunt itself, not the end prize. Anyhow, one takes this small container and hides it in a tree stump or other such place. One very common hiding location is within a light pole in a parking lot. Most poles have a metal or plastic skirt at the base of the pole which can easily slide up, thus making a perfect hiding place for smaller caches underneath. And yes, most cachers will giggle when announcing they’ve found a cache “under a skirt.”

Jeff read a few Facebook postings of my initial geocaching finds and asked me about the hobby. After I described it, he started looking for some in Ohio, especially while walking his dog. I remember the first day he found one…he called me on his cell phone asking questions and giving me updates. He was so thrilled at the first find, and I could tell he was hooked. “Jadestep” was introduced to the geocaching world. As he always did with things that interested him, he quickly became very involved in the hobby and even helped organize a few Geocaching gatherings. He started to become one of the more involved geocachers in the Akron area.

When Jeff and I attended my step-mother’s family reunion in June, we made sure to go on a Hurricane, WV area “cache run” together. We found about eight caches that day…a record for me at the time. When we finished, my dad commented that geocaching was the first thing Jeff and I had done “together” in a long, long time. And it was true…somehow this silly little hobby bonded us closer than we’d been in years.

During that trip, Jeff commented that he had wanted to hide his own on a guardrail near the Walgreen’s in Hurricane. He always liked puns and many geocaches were given such titles which would also offer up a clue to the hide. His idea for this cache was “Guarding the Wal.” Jeff was always quite clever. Sadly, he never got to hide that cache.

Before I traveled to WV for Jeff’s funeral, I loaded the caches along my travel route into my GPS as I usually do. Granted, I had no intention of making this a caching trip, but seeing as how he loved to geocache, I thought it appropriate to be able to find one or two during the trip...perhaps at a rest area along the highway or near a restaurant during a lunch or dinner break. But honestly, my mind was far from caches as I drove up the day before his funeral.

On the morning of the funeral, I decided to take the car out to fill up with gas while the rest of my family prepared for the somber day. As I drove past that Walgreen’s in Hurricane, I noticed an icon on my GPS indicating a newer cache had been hidden near the drug store only a couple weeks prior. Again, I hadn’t planned on seeking any caches, particularly on the day of Jeff’s funeral, but curiosity got the better of me. I drove past the guardrails and into the parking lot. The GPS directed me to a light post on the parking lot edge, with a sign attached stating “Area Under Video Surveillance.”

I pushed a few buttons on my GPS to read about the cache and look for any clues. What I read gave me chills. I jumped out of the car, lifted the skirt (giggle) and grabbed the 35 mm film canister. There was only a log inside, as suspected, and I signed it “MountieAl for Jadestep.” I returned the cache to its hiding place for others to find and then sat back in the car with my heart racing. Tears started to well up as I drove off.

It wasn’t the content of the cache, nor even the coincidental location of this geocaches that had me rattled.  It was the title of this geocaches that had me shaken…and yet smiling.  The name?

 “Big Brother Is Watching.”

(true story…100%)

So you see, my brother DID tell me that he’d be with me.  He’s watching my life’s path and guiding me.  And that’s why on this day…a day that marks a year since feeling great sadness, I feel great joy and confidence.

I miss you big brother…now let’s go find another cache.

"People Need To Know..."

It was a year ago today that I last saw my brother alive.  After his announcement a few weeks earlier of having Stage IV Melanoma, I decided I’d best go pay him a visit.  My father encouraged me to “do it soon.”  So I drove myself 5 ½ hours from the Raleigh, NC area to near Charleston, WV to stop by my dad’s.  He then drove me and my step-mother three hours more up the road near Akron, Ohio.  It was a long trip with a lot of time to think.

I hadn’t known how sick my brother Jeff was.  After all, it was less than a month earlier that he made the announcement, with the proclamation that he “felt fine.”  The only symptoms he had at the time were some memory loss and eye problems.  His humor and attitude over the phone was always upbeat.  But then again, my family has never been one to share bad news with me.  Maybe because I’m the baby…maybe we’re all just that way.  Whatever reason, I came to realize that Jeff’s condition was pretty bad.

On the way up, Dad asked me to call Jeff’s wife, Debbie to let them know when we’d arrive.  It was then I found out that Jeff had just arrived home from the hospital.  He had been having complications from his medicine due to his diabetes and had spent two nights under observation.  (His balancing of diabetes and cancer was eventually to be his biggest challenge in coming weeks.)  Dad also made an eleventh-hour statement that I might not recognize Jeff when we arrived.

We arrived around dinner time.  Neighbors were just leaving after having brought over some food to eat.  I actually talked to the neighbors and Debbie before I saw Jeff.   I recognized him.  He was bloated from the steroids, his head was completely shaven, and he had a dazed expression, but he still had the same smiling eyes and mischievous smile.  He was still my brother.

We stayed for two nights.  Our “purpose” was to help winterize their yard…gather the lawn ornaments, sweep the deck, clean the flower pots, store the deck furniture…that kind of stuff.  But the truth is we just needed to visit.  We all knew what this trip was.  We (mostly Jeff and I) were hopeful that there would be a recovery…that he would fight and win.  It was just skin cancer, right?  Boy…did I learn otherwise.

Jeff’s attitude was nothing short of amazing.  We still shared quirky little inside jokes.  When we’d play cards and he lost the hand, he would joke that it didn’t take much to beat a man with cancer in his brain.  When he'd cough (the cancer had spread to his lungs as well) he'd say, "I hope I didn;t cough up any cnacer on you."  When there are moments that he obviously didn’t recognize me (which happened often that weekend), he would laugh and say “oops…my brain just farted.”   I don’t think my dad appreciated the humor, but I did.  It was something Jeff and I always shared and it was refreshing to witness.

At some point during the visit was when Jeff made a comment about wishing the black awareness ribbon could be as popular as the pink breast cancer awareness ribbon.  “I don’t have breast cancer, but all I can find is ‘pink stuff.’  I have melanoma…and people need to know.”  It was that moment, that VERY moment that I became aware of this disease.  I had no idea what I’d do (and I still don’t), but I promised him I’d do what I could to let people know about melanoma…what it can do…and how to prevent it.

On the morning before I left, Jeff and I went geocaching together.  I’ve mentioned geocaching here before, and I’m sure I’ll mention it again in the future.  It was one activity that probably drew us together more than anything else in years.  He had hidden one cache not far from his house, and I wanted to find it.  I wanted to make it my 300^th find…it deserved a “milestone” status.  He took me to several others that day…trying to remember the tricks to some, and laughing at me when I struggled to find a few.  I did indeed find his, as my 300^th.  We had a good time and shared a lot of geocaching stories while driving around.  Sadly, a week later, he had no recollection of our time together.  This awful disease was eating him alive that quickly.  Thank God I was smart enough to take a photo of us together that day…my favorite picture of us ever.

After returning to his house, we had a quick bite to eat and then loaded up dad’s car for our return trip to West Virginia.  We’re not a hugging family, but Jeff and I shared an awkward hug.  I told him I’d see him again and he made some joke about my dad’s driving and that I should be more concerned for my own life than his.  We smiled...never really shed a tear…but we knew.  We both knew.

Obviously I miss my brother, but I very much want to continue his words, “People Need to Know.”  People need to know…that they can prevent the occurrence of melanoma by making sun-smart choices.  People need to know the dangers of tanning and tanning beds.  People need to know that it’s important to get your skin checked by a dermatologist.  People need to know to learn your own body and know when something’s not right.  And people need to know that melanoma kills.  You, dear reader, most likely know all these things.  But you have to spread that knowledge to those who don’t…and let people know.

Simple Gifts

With the opening of the college football season just a week or so away, excitement levels are rising.  I’m a graduate of West Virginia University and we WVU fans are crazy about our football.  After all, we have no pro sport teams in our state, and while Marshall University fans are as enthusiastic (and they have their own movie), the Mountaineers carry the name of our state with them.  It’s not just a college-wide pride; it’s a state-wide pride.

What really sets the WVU anxiety blazing is what happens just before the game.  “Simple Gifts.”  It’s the soft and gentle popular section of Aaron Copeland’s score of “Appalachian Spring.”  You’d know it if you heard it.  The WVU Marching Band (also known as the Pride of West Virginia), like many other university bands, plays certain songs as part of their pre-game show:  the fight song, the alma-mater, the National Anthem, etc.  While the Pride adds John Denver’s “Country Roads” and the hillbilly anthem “Good Ol’ Mountain Dew” to the repertoire, the addition of “Simple Gifts” is what stirs the heart of many Mountaineers.

The band starts in a “WVU” formation and marches in complex patterns while playing the soft tune, ultimately marching into a tightly packed circle with all instruments facing in.  Then the band turns during a drum roll and a part of “Fanfare for the Common Man” kicks in and the crowd goes wild.  A louder more enthusiastic rendition of “Simple Gifts” starts back up again as the band members march out in expanding circles.  I can’t really say why, but this has always been a goose-bump inducing scene and always will be.  But this year, it’s even more stirring.

My brother was a manager for the football team when he attended school in the mid-70’s.  He loved working the practices and the sidelines during the games.  He made lifelong friends with many of the team (and he got me a great autographed football for my 15^th birthday that I still have today) and followed the team closely for the rest of his life.  A couple years ago, he shared with me that the pre-game show was on YouTube, and we both would watch “Simple Gifts” every day for the week or two prior to the new season.

It was about a year ago that he discovered that his melanoma had returned and knew that he had a very VERY difficult fight ahead.  He posted the news in Facebook on Friday, September 3, and attended a WVU game the next day.  Despite the devastating news…or perhaps because of it, he insisted on watching his Mountaineers play.

Two or three weeks later, he attended his last game.  The two hour drive to see a game got to be too much and I believe he knew it could be the last time he saw the blue and gold.  When I talked to Debbie (Jeff’s wife) months later, she told me that Jeff had the most incredible time, despite the fact that his body was failing him.  She said that during the pre-game show, he started to bawl.  Jeff admitted through his tears how much he truly loved the university that gave him his education, transformed him into a man, and introduced him to his life-long love, Debbie.

My cousin Steve Dunlap (yes…we have a lot of cousins in West Virginia) is a defensive coach for the Mountaineers.  He had heard of Jeff’s condition and invited my brother to the locker room after the game.  Steve gave him a true behind-the-scenes tour.  Jeff met players, saw facilities seen by only a select few, and was presented with an official coach’s shirt and hat.  He called me when he got back home and I had never heard such excitement from my brother.  This tour was truly a dream-come-true.  It was an incredible gesture from my cousin and the university that Jeff loved so well.  It meant so very much to him and gave him such great joy. 

One couldn’t ask for more from such a simple gift.