Tribute To My Brother

by Lynda Queen

The day he was born, I cried. My friends cried as they comforted a sad, disappointed, soon-to-be 10-year-old, whose heart was breaking with adolescent drama. He was a BOY! I had two older brothers. I needed a sister! My friends and I had prayed for that baby girl. For months we made wishes on railroad tracks, underpasses, Volkswagens, and on any other trending object. And I got another brother.

When “the boy” came home from the hospital, I tried to act unimpressed as I looked at the tiny red being. However, the next morning, while everyone was asleep, I picked him up from the bassinet in the living room. I looked at his perfect little hands and feet, his sweet face. I felt the warmth of his body covered in a soft, flannel receiving blanket. He “smelled really good. And he had me when he grabbed my finger … along with my heart! He was the most perfect human I had ever seen! I was completely smitten and filled with a love for Rocky that remains to this day.

He gave me such joy and precious memories like when our brother Gary taught him to dance and even took him to a few school dances to show him off in his black slacks with pink stitching down the sides (also in his cool pink pants with blank stitching down the sides). I can see him dancing now and shaking his body in popular movements of the day.

I see him in his coon skin cap and hear him singing, Davy, Davy Crockett... Because of his fair skin, he often also wore a straw hat when he played outside. I see him in that hat now, commanding orders to his green, plastic army men. Daddy had built him a sandbox outside his and momma’s bedroom window; and, as chief babysitter, I would go back to their bedroom to check on him through the windows. His play was fascinating. He would have his camouflage soldiers in trenches, holes, on top of hills, hidden by hills; and he spoke for each of them, calling them by name, amid his sounds of shots and explosions. Filled with great imagination and creativity, he enjoyed calling out orders and being in charge, a trait that continued through life.

Rocky basically grew up alone. He did have neighborhood friends, but he navigated between family life, our brother/sister relationship, and his own course. In the early years, oldest brother Bobby was off to college in Wisconsin, and Gary would follow four years later, both on athletic scholarships. Two years after Gary’s departure, Momma and Rocky took me to my dormitory at TWU in Denton, TX. Even though I was excited, saying good-bye was so hard. We were also separated when I transferred to WTAMU in Canyon and later when I married.

As a pre-teen and teenager, Rocky would spend a week or two in the summers with my husband Bert and me. We loved having him there. Bert was fun, and the two of them would work on the fish aquariums. We also had a Mynah bird that talked both in Bert’s voice and in mine. In his high school years, Rocky worked at the theaters for Daddy so couldn’t come so often. I remember he was in a frightening car accident, and I flew to the hospital in Las Cruces. Gary was also there. We made as many trips as we could. For his photography class, Rocky took some creative pictures of our little daughter Beth in a dirt field outside the drive-in theater at Cruces. I saw him march with the ROTC in a parade and attended his graduation.

I would say the highlights of his life were when he married Mary and when they had their daughters, Michelle and Stacey. He shared such joy about them during those busy, child-rearing years in El Paso, Waco, Brownsville, Katy, New York, and back to Katy. Those hold his lifetime.

These later years have been our best times in sharing. We have discussed mutual memories, regrets, joys. He has always had praise and love for Mary and joy for his first-born daughter Michelle and her husband Jason, grandchildren Alec, Cameron, Brice, BilliJo and a new great-grandson Axel. He equally expressed joy and pride for his baby Stacey and her partner David, and for his granddogs Snacks and Mae. He made me laugh with his wit and his daddy jokes. And, of course, we talked and laughed about our own health limitations and frustrations. Rocky never wanted to be a burden to his family.

Our most important conversations were about death and what the Bible says will follow. He eventually embraced the truth that a person can’t earn salvation. For by grace are you saved through faith … It is the gift of God. Rocky received that gift when he repented and accepted Jesus as the sacrifice for his sins. He assured me he had settled things with God. (Our mother had written his name in her Bible so that he would be saved.)

The day he died I cried. The tears I shed when he was born and when he died were selfish tears. In retrospect, I praise God for His wonderful decision to give me a baby brother and for His decision to take him home. I know he didn’t want to stay here past his due date. His health had become more limited, and he absolutely didn’t want to put more heavy decisions on his family. I believe he is with Jesus and so many loved ones, and I smile when I imagine the conversations. What a beautiful blessing Rocky has been and continues to be in my life and in the lives of friends and family. He loved and was loved.

Good job, Baby Brother!