A Lasting Tribute
A mere two days before he got sick my brother ordered three half-sides of beef. It was an annual ritual that set me, him and our buddy Mike, up with filled to the gill freezers. The only problem each year was that someone had to go and pick up the thousand pounds of beef and distribute it to each home. This year when he called Jeff said, "I ordered it and it'll be in the first week in April which gives you enough time to set up an excuse not to help us pick it up."
I helped Mike pick it up yesterday and thought of Jeff skipping out on the task. With each bag of hamburger that I tugged into every empty space in the freezer I thought of honoring him with every bite of that meat, and don't get me wrong, we'll eat every cubed steak and piece of stew meat.
Yet it also got me thinking of honoring him each day. I'm working on the story of his life and alternating between laughing and crying. I also had Mom and Dad by for dinner last night and we shared a wonderful story written about him that appeared in the East Aurora newspaper. The story told of how he interviewed a potential employee, wearing an Afro wig throughout the entire interview. Classic Jeff and I can see him doing it without even cracking a smile.
There are hundreds of students missing him at the school where he worked as an executive chef. My mother can't go longer than three minutes without crying. My sons have asked me a lot of questions, knowing that their Dad and a lot of others lost their best friend. Sam said last night, "You did everything with Uncle Jeff - playing golf, making bets, watching the Yanks, listening to Bruce."
I answered him without crying - "Yeah, I really miss him."
Sam waited a long moment and then said, "I can make bets with you and watch Bruce and the Yanks, but I don't know how to golf yet."
Then he hugged me.
If time and circumstance allows me this year I would love to talk with the class of students that Jeff left at the Gow School. I'm thinking of a talk at commencement. I would do it for them, and I'd do it in a wig if they wanted, because as you see, the walking celebration that was my brother deserves each and every lasting tribute that goes his way.
Even if he did stiff Mike and I out of picking up his beef.
I helped Mike pick it up yesterday and thought of Jeff skipping out on the task. With each bag of hamburger that I tugged into every empty space in the freezer I thought of honoring him with every bite of that meat, and don't get me wrong, we'll eat every cubed steak and piece of stew meat.
Yet it also got me thinking of honoring him each day. I'm working on the story of his life and alternating between laughing and crying. I also had Mom and Dad by for dinner last night and we shared a wonderful story written about him that appeared in the East Aurora newspaper. The story told of how he interviewed a potential employee, wearing an Afro wig throughout the entire interview. Classic Jeff and I can see him doing it without even cracking a smile.
There are hundreds of students missing him at the school where he worked as an executive chef. My mother can't go longer than three minutes without crying. My sons have asked me a lot of questions, knowing that their Dad and a lot of others lost their best friend. Sam said last night, "You did everything with Uncle Jeff - playing golf, making bets, watching the Yanks, listening to Bruce."
I answered him without crying - "Yeah, I really miss him."
Sam waited a long moment and then said, "I can make bets with you and watch Bruce and the Yanks, but I don't know how to golf yet."
Then he hugged me.
If time and circumstance allows me this year I would love to talk with the class of students that Jeff left at the Gow School. I'm thinking of a talk at commencement. I would do it for them, and I'd do it in a wig if they wanted, because as you see, the walking celebration that was my brother deserves each and every lasting tribute that goes his way.
Even if he did stiff Mike and I out of picking up his beef.
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