Lessons My Brother Demonstrated.

MY BROTHER GREGORY

Gregory was a gentle giant—tall, robust, with a big heart. His laughter was always off-key but truly sincere. I remember when a friend and neighbor, Elaine, was in a high school production of A Raisin in the Sun. The entire production, along with the audience, was staged in the auditorium. During one particular scene that made the audience laugh, Gregory would only get the funny comment a few moments after everyone had stopped laughing. He never just chuckled; his laugh was loud, deep, and resonant, filling the room and causing the audience to join in, extending the laughter long after the scene had ended.

My mother would try to stifle his laughter, or his repeating the lines that he found funny from the performance, which would inevitably make him laugh all over again. Gregory was only about 8 or 9 years old, and he didn’t care about social etiquette. He saw no need to whisper or laugh softly. Eventually, the entire audience would join in laughing with him, and the actors would pause until he finished before continuing their scenes.

This was Gregory’s style—drawing people into his life, making them laugh with him, always a little off-timing, yet everyone adapted to him, enjoying the experience.

Gregory’s other admirable trait was his desire to help others, especially family and friends. His circle included people from all walks of life—from those of the lowest socioeconomic status to very successful entrepreneurs. He demanded little from others and was easygoing, like the comfortable slippers that ease your aching feet after a long day. I felt safe with him, as did others. There was no judgment.

I am eight years older than Gregory. In his younger childhood, I would step in to protect him from words or actions that might cause him any suffering. I became angry and spoke up on his behalf whenever others would tease or make fun of him.

Gregory would say, “Pat, it’s okay.”

He never took a defensive attitude. He would simply shrug it off and go about his business. I remember another instance when Gregory was a teen. He struggled with severe acne—large, painful welts under his skin that never formed heads. My mother tried everything, from mixing sulfur with Vaseline to visiting multiple doctors.

One day, Greg and I visited a doctor in New York for his regular injections. Never once did he complain. On the way home, we stopped at a record store. Yes, I know this dates us—some won’t even know what a record is. Google it. Now, it’s called vinyl.

While we were browsing through cassette tapes, a total stranger approached my brother and asked, “What’s wrong with your face?”

As the big sister, I immediately stepped in to defend my brother, especially after everything he had just endured at the doctor’s office. I was shocked and angry at this stranger’s intrusion into my brother’s life. In my mind, he had no right to ask for an explanation.

Stepping between my brother and the stranger, I scowled, “What’s wrong with your face?”

I was about to go off on this stranger’s looks when my brother gently touched my hand and pulled me away, saying, “Pat, it’s okay, it’s alright.” The man quickly moved away from us.

Gregory explained, “Pat, I get this all the time.”

I was stunned. When I asked him how he dealt with it and stayed so calm, he simply shrugged and said, “I just explain it because, at least, they ask me rather than point and stare.”

I wished I could have taken away his pain and suffering. I realized how strong his character was, especially during his high school years. I had no idea what he was dealing with, as he often joked but rarely complained.

But don’t get it twisted—Gregory was no pushover. He looked out for me and others. He was also a huge sports enthusiast, knowledgeable about stats and history, with football being his favorite sport, along with anything that involved a ball.

Later, I thought about his choice of a female companion. One in particular, Whitney, had mental health issues and very little family support. She had a sweet, childlike innocence and was outwardly very attractive. Gregory tried for years to be supportive in this toxic relationship, but eventually, they went their separate ways.

Gregory seemed to live his life helping others, including our parents. I just wish he had been able to help himself more. Part of Gregory’s lesson for me is the importance of balancing what you do for yourself with what you do for others. My younger brother passed away suddenly at 39, having just decided to pursue a career in nursing while working at FedEx. Unfortunately, his lifestyle caught up with him before he could make the changes he wanted for himself.

You shouldn’t wait for the right moment—just start, little by little. The right moment might never come.