When I was born, my brother Steve threw the cats up to the ceiling in what my parent’s believe was a sign of protest from their second son. But all I remember is a brother that I grew to adore. Two weeks ago on September 3rd, he celebrated his birthday in Chicagoland and it was the first time in a long time that I didn’t spend it with him. I am close to both of my brothers, but in different ways. John, my oldest brother, filled his roll as the first born and took off to conquer the world and blaze his path. John was off to college while Steve and I remained in public school in Northwest Indiana. Steve was a quiet, sensitive talent who stuck close and he was the brother who defined home for me.
Right around the time he got married I became obsessed with Elton John’s Song “Daniel”. It reminded me of Steve and it also served to help me cope with letting him go. I asked the DJ to play it at his wedding so I could have one last dance with him, but understandably “Daniel” is not a popular request at weddings. So, I ended up dancing with one of his friends to some Whitney Houston song and said nothing.
It took me 10 long years to decide to rip myself away from home, family, friends, and Steve. And similar to my “Daniel” way of coping with things , I became fixed on airplanes – buying retro models of them, shooting them, asking for airplane photos at Christmas. For me, it is the only form of transportation that is a symbol of adventure and romance as well as one of separation and sadness.
Steve and I were always so sentimental about things ending and we clung to things, holidays and memories with all of our might. We even came up with our own coping methods like writing a note to ourselves to put into the Christmas tree light box for the next year. We would say something like “You are so lucky – you are putting up the tree and we are taking it down! Have fun! We have to go back to school soon – blah!” We’d date it and shove it in the box in order to remind us that Christmas would come back. The next year we would find the note and laugh and remember – and then do it all over again.
I was going to buy him a really cool tie with some Pacific Northwest Native American art on it. But that can wait and this can’t (plus I’m broke). So this one’s for you Steve. And the cool thing about it is, thanks to airplanes, you and I can always come back – just like Christmas. You are a beyond wonderful father, husband, son and brother. And to me, you will always be “a star in the face of the sky”.
Love, your sister.