A Brother's Eulogy

by Jim Jung

Saturday, September 2, 2006

I Miss My Brother

Feeling him:

John, today is the sixth day since you died; tomorrow will be one week. Before long it will be one month, and suddenly one year and I just can’t wrap my mind around it. All the changes that this will bring to our lives hasn’t begun to sink in. I think I’ll still buy you Christmas presents this year expecting to spend the holidays with you. I struggle waking up in the middle of the night having to remember all over again. To think of you so alone in your final moments not near anyone you love. As I stay at home for comfort, I find all the memories of growing up, holidays, and time with the family. Each new day brings new emotions, ones I never thought I’d have. I look around the rooms at home and can see you in your usual position in each one. Lying on the couch, one leg strewn over the back, sitting at the desk in the office, living out of the suitcase lying beside the bed. Sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. These visions will never fade.

Knowing him:

Anyone who knew John, undoubtedly has seen him in his blue scrubs with his Adidas sandals and a dirty sweatshirt or t-shirt. It’s like this that John will forever be engrained in my head. John was the most sensitive guy I ever knew. So much to the point it could make me sick. I felt like “you gotta be a MAN!” But over the last three years I have seen how much has rubbed off on me. I feel John shining through me and it makes me feel happy. It’s something I take away from this that I will always have. John invested himself in his relationships. Friends can vouch for the fact that John was always a person to be there, slow to judge and full of compassion.

Remembering him:

I’ll remember John as having more friends in any one city his was connected to than I’ll ever have in a lifetime. I’ll remember him cooking a Jack’s Naturally Rising pizza at midnight, saying to me “you want to split a pizza?” I’ll remember the caring, sensitive personality, and it’s this I’ll miss most of all. I’ll remember our conversations about music and the new artists we had found since the last time we had seen each other. I remember going to the home run derby together and catching a foul ball off of Sammy Sosa. I remember going to lunch and talking about girls we had dated, relationships with friend, and struggles we both were facing.

Losing him:

I won’t remember seeing John dressed for work in a shirt and tie. I won’t remember what it was like to see John on the streets of a huge city like New York. I won’t remember what it was like going to a Badger football game with my brother. I won’t remember what it was like to really know the man my brother had become. We had let our relationship dwindle to a point neither of us were comfortable with. I called John two weeks ago Sunday to say it wasn’t okay anymore. We needed to talk every week and know what were the issues in each other’s lives. Now it’s too late and we’ll never have that chance. I had seen John and I getting married, to women not each other, having families and sharing our lives together as successful men.

Never forgetting him:

John, I will live on for the both of us.

I miss my brother.
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Joy: "The quiet confident assurance of God's love and work in our lives; no matter what happens"