My brother was known by "Butchie" by many in my family, though I always thought and still think of him as "Charlie". Charlie was 8 years younger than me, so I didn't know him very well, as well as maybe I should have. He was killed at an early age, 15, when he and a couple of his friends decided to go bicycle riding on a dark night and while rounding a corner a car, which was passing another car, hit him from behind and he was killed within minutes of hitting the pavement. His friends survived as they fell into the ditch. I have always felt guilty because I spent Christmas of 1971 in Hawaii and never got to spend this last holiday with him.
I had an extraordinary experience happen to me at his funeral. I had this indescribable feeling of comfort come over me as if he were telling me "I am all right". I will never forget this experience for as long as I live.
Charlie was the only son of my parents and as you can imagine, it was very hard on my parents to lose him. My Dad was an avid hunter and fisherman and he lost his partner when my brother died. I can well imagine the reunion they must have had when my Dad died in 1992.
No comments:
Post a Comment