There was no grand plan for my brother Joe's burial service to be on the same day as his birthday...it just worked out that way, which I was reminded of courtesy of my watch this morning.
Actually, the plan for Joe's service today was made last week, after consulting with a few different folks. Somehow the birthday connection seems fitting.
For those that did not know my brother, he was the youngest of 4 (now 2) Albert Boys, all a year apart in age. I'd like to think that we were all very different in many ways, but that was especially true for Joe. Avoiding any long screeds about life growing up, I will instead note that we didn't have a particularly nurturing home environment, and while I know Joe was taken care of to a greater degree by our mother early on, as they both grew older, well, it became more difficult for Joe. This is because each of us, except Joe, found a way to escape our upbringing in some way. After high school graduation, Rich went headlong into work/school, I went to school for the next 4 years, and Chris went into the Navy. Joe remained.
In one respect (pretty much only), my younger brother's disability was probably a blessing in the sense that he didn't process our world growing up in the same way that his brothers did, and in the ways that caused us to plot our escapes.
Speaking of disability, Joe didn't see himself that way. I know he was aware of being different, but that wasn't a major part of what shaped his life from his perspective. Just like everyone else, I think he just was trying his best, getting up each day, and doing his thing. An increasingly complex world meant that some things raced past him, including a working environment that required a use of technology that became beyond his own capabilities. He didn't bemoan this fact by the way, but in typical Joe fashion, he just accepted it. This is something that I would be incapable of doing myself. I will note that Joe worked full time until he was nearly 50 years old. As indicated above, Joe had the ability to show up, which is not something that everyone has in this day and age.
Speaking of support, our mother never sought out any additional support for Joe growing up, for reasons that died with her more than a decade ago. The Scranton School District though was very supportive of him. The bashers of public education seem chronically unable to acknowledge the fact that public schools take those students that private schools would never have in the first place, and in Joe's case, provide him with a valuable education. While schools like to point with pride to the high, mighty and credentialed as examples of their success, I offer the fact that my brother is a different kind of success story...but a success story nevertheless.
I know that the time Joe spent with our mother in the years before she passed away were difficult for him, as our mother was not an easy person to be around. But yet Joe almost never complained, even though he certainly had the cause to do so. After our mother's passing, myself, Rich and Chris decided that it was time for Joe to begin to receive some of the services for which he was entitled. Credit goes to my brother Rich for the heavy lifting associated with getting Joe the financial support he needed to live independently. My role was to make sure that he did not outlive his financial resources and that, to the greatest extent possible, he was protected from the many ways modern life has of separating the unwitting from their money.
There were, by the way, many ways in which attempts were made to take advantage of Joe over the years. None of us can make someone else live in a bubble, and in trying to give Joe an independent life, there were bound to be instances where he was taken advantage of. But there were countless examples also where, between Rich and me, bad things were prevented.
If you didn't know my brother (and there were many in the Scranton, PA area that did), he was something of an open book...what you see is what you got. He was friendly towards others, especially back in the days when he worked at the Mall at Steamtown, and his height (6'5") combined with red hair made him stand out in a crowd. By the way, Joe's standard line when I introduced him to others was "I am his little brother, but I am taller than him" (or words to that effect). Admittedly, this could be a bit annoying, but I take some solace in the facts that:
A) It was factually correct
B) Making fun of your brother is what brothers have done for as long as there have been brothers
Now I am left being the tallest Albert brother. It's not much of a consolation prize, thank you very much. Speaking of fitting in, his remains are now resting close to that of his mother, father and brother Chris.
So, what's left? Well, there is lawyer stuff and assorted other things to do, which I will be working on over the weeks and months to come. His apartment has been cleared out, thanks to a ton of work by Rich (and I provided an assist), and the local Goodwill now has a large selection of firefighter tee shirts for sale from which the residents of the greater Scranton area can browse. There were also a decade's worth of cargo pants which I bought for him every Christmas that were lightly used (in later years, Joe's decided preference was sweatpants). Some Scranton-area thrift shoppers looking for size 42x32 pants may be in luck as well. It's odd to think about his clothes at a time like this, but if you knew Joe, you knew how seriously he took firefighter stuff, so that fact that his collections of very lightly used and dozens of firefighter-themed shirts will live to see other torsos in the future is oddly comforting.
Time will also march on, and for Joe, that will be to a better place (hence the title...with apologies for any Latin grammatical errors on my part). I am served with yet another reminder that life has a way of changing in ways that can be expected but not necessarily timely. Speaking of time, I am hoping to have much more of it on this Earth, where I will do my best to be the better person Joe probably thought I was*.
No one else is allowed to die for a while now. Okay?
(*) Just kidding. I think he mostly thought I was a pain in the a$$, which I was, but that was part of what I did to help take care of him.