Mom gave me some of my brother’s cassette tapes. She had saved them for quite a while. Opening the box, I imagined the tapes without cases and the ones with cracks had been rescued from the mangled wreck of my brother’s car. How alike we were to keep a continuous selection of music at our fingertips.

With some trepidation, I began listening to them. My theory of music being the soundtrack of your life seemed to manifest as every song seemed to speak of many of the very things my brother had been going through in those last days. I had almost forgotten them.

I experienced laughter at the familiar favorites we had shared. I could have wept at the sad songs that seemed to match actual events he had confided to me. I felt the fondness of a mentor for his protégé at the start of each song I knew I had brought to his notice in our mutual love of music. Sometimes those songs are the hardest to listen to again.

I took being a big brother too seriously at times. I found that I blamed myself for his loss. I found it hard to forgive myself and in one sense to let my brother go, but I think I now have.

It doesn’t mean I won’t miss him anymore. I will until I see him again.


“I cried when I wrote this song. Sue me if I play too long.” --Steely Dan.