My oldest brother passed away sometime early sunday morning. He was 68.  

After my mom passed away a few years ago, I thought it would be a great idea if I, who live in the LA area, and my brothers, who all live in the San Diego area, got together once a year, right around the time mom passed away. She passed away around Thanksgiving, so we had gotten together for the last three or so years. Last year, I spoke to him about when to come down, and he said it didn’t really matter, they’d all be there. So my wife and went down, and when we got there, I saw my oldest brother get helped in by the second oldest: he looked like hell. He was frail, weak, barely able to do much. And after maybe 20-30 minutes, decided he needed to go lay down. We didn’t see him anymore that day. I told my wife that I didn’t think there would be another yearly get together with him involved. 

The story is that I was adopted out as an infant from that family. At around 30, I had an opportunity to reconnect, and I did. But my oldest brother wasn’t around at the time. He was a career army guy, having joined the special forces out of high school. So he was still in the military and living across the country when I first met my birth family. But years later, after he was discharged, I finally met him. 

It was the weirdest thing, but just like with the rest of the family, as soon as I met him, it was like we had known each other all along. We just clicked. Having been all over the world in his capacity as an Army Ranger, he had all these stories about places he had been and things he had done… at least what he would tell us. A lot of what he did he couldn’t really speak about. But we had a good relationship. I really enjoy the time I can get together with my brothers, and I’ll miss Charles. But he was a believer too and I have every hope I’ll see him again someday.