Broken Lives

Happy Birthday, Big Bro. It has been 65 years since your birth. It has been nearly a year since death freed you from the lingering pain of our broken lives. At least I hope you are now free of that pain, though I frequently believe that pain and associated ticks are part of what we carry with us when we leave this life. The emotions are what we take with us when we go. That belief is what keeps me working to heal the injuries of this life before my own leaving. It has been nine months since I acknowleged your death and began the long sojourn across the watersheds of east and mid North America. The images of our child selves peeking over the ridge of the unfinished stock tank at the farm in Bumfuck, Texas which compelled me to begin the sojourn are with me still as a composite of the endless stream of rejection which was the childhood we shared.

I donae feel your presence here in the still evolving project in the River Region in the heartland of North America. I feel *only* the memories and honor of you which are mine to keep. I feel like you have moved on to whatever is next. My love and honor go with you.

Happy Birthday, Big Bro.