Brothers in Arms
Jeff is my brother.
It’s been only a matter of weeks…
While waiting for his diagnosis – which was ten days of hospitalized dread (sprinkled with teasers of hope) – he coaxes an elderly roommate to take her medication – he charms a panoply of orderlies, and he disarms a bewildered Doogie Howser oncologist with his bawdy (read: WAY-over-the-line) sense of humour.
Jeff then insists his soulmate, Sheri, bring an extra caramel latte for the nurse just befriended. Before his discharge, there is a lineup of health care workers coming to offer kind words. Doogie returns and insists on removing his gloves, leans in for a hug, and tells him how inspiring he is.
Jeff and Sheri
That’s Jeff. He makes a difference everywhere he goes.
A few years ago, when Sue’s brother, Brad, was visiting at the same time as Jeff and Sheri, I experienced a humbling moment of truth.
You see, I’m the writer. I’m the one who is supposed to be blessed with a knack for drollery.
Yet, following an afternoon of banter with Jeff, Brad turns to me and announces for all to hear: “Your brother’s a lot funnier than you are.”
He and Sheri have cultivated a loving family – two outstanding children – a welcoming home – a safe space.
Jeff has built a flourishing company – built so well that it seamlessly continues without his day-to-day interventions. I remark to his colleagues that their secret to success seems simple – yet for many organizations so elusive: they tell the truth.
Jeff sets the standard and they all buy in. They tell the truth to their customers, to their suppliers, to each other and (the hardest part) – they tell the truth to themselves.
That’s Jeff.
He’s a truth teller.
He says it with startling brutality – often with rapier wit – but never self-serving – and always infused with a deep sense of justice. If ever you are stung by one of Jeff’s zingers – it’s because you fuckin’ deserve it.
Jeff - perennial fishing champ & good friend to all
In our family of survivors, he’s the toughest by far. Raised in an extravaganza of self-absorbed substance abuse and co-dependence, he emerges generous, forthright, loyal, and supremely dependable. The very definition of good friend.
Alas, his strength is his weakness. He absorbs. He supports. He gives.
I hate the expression “battling cancer.” It conjures an image that does not align with real life. I can say, however, that Jeff battles on.
His body may indeed be giving way.
But let it be known, his spirit remains irreverent, indomitable, eternal.
Jeff is my hero.
In the face of life’s battles, he’s forever my brother in arms.
