The Wanderer's Final Walk

The Wanderer’s Final Walk
My twin brother of a different mother is gone. 3 weeks after his diagnosis of inoperable lung cancer, Wes the Wanderer took the journey. The Ol’ Abbot is a selfish sort, so I miss him terribly. Fast, man, way too fast, although he’d been in poor health for a few years. It came as no huge surprise that his time was gone, but as my pal Jim says “You can be completely prepared, but you can never be completely ready.” Yeah, it’s just like you, bro: now that you can breathe all you want, you don’t have to anymore.

Wes chose hospice rather than chemical assault. His doctor was frank & compassionate enough to tell him it might prolong his life a few months, but he would be sick all the time. Although I wanted him around longer (see “selfish” above), I respect his decision. Hospice was wonderful, providing all the physical comfort they could manage. In the end he passed in his mother’s house w/Ma & his sister by his side.
Earlier in the week, the Father gifted us with a great blessing. Wes was well enough to sit up for a meal w/family & friend, after which his sister spotted his beloved wild raccoon Lucy in the yard, w/5 babies! Wes actually found the strength to walk out into the yard, sit cross-legged on the ground & call her. The Raccoon Platoon ambled on over to visit with him for the final time. Two days later he crossed over. Now he can REALLY call “Luuuuuucy, I’m Hooo-ome!”

The week prior to his departure, I lay awake about 3am, as I often do. Into my consciousness sprang a song, as they often do. A few hours later my darlin’ wife found me scribbling furiously to capture the lyrics before they faded. A few days stewing over one line & I had it. “Problem is,” I told her, “I can only sing this after he’s gone.” God gave me my cue shortly thereafter. I have promised it to Mother Ruth: since I have not yet delivered it, I will not post it until she has it in hand & heart.
We had a wonderfully informal wake at his sister’s & her partner’s home. Friends known & unknown came & went. Dear friends we introduced to Wes & Co. a few years ago at our annual Boar’s Head Feastival spent the day as we loved each other & his memory.
Last weekend we visited to help Mom go thru his stuff. Wonderful memories & fellowship, mixed with melancholy (see “selfish” above). His passing is a burden, but his care is a burden lifted. (Insert comforting clichés here). We all now have keepsakes with which to honor our brother. His last words to me were “I love you, bro!” I don’t have last words for him, as I speak to him every day.

"Unkis kiksuye utikawa wacignuni mitiblo ki oiha ke wanil" - We remember our Wandering Brother forever