I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We wait too long to appreciate the living. We take for granted that family and friends will be there tomorrow, especially if they’re young. Who would expect a tragic accident or a sudden illness to take them away from us? We assume we have time until it’s too late.

Wish You Were Here

My baby brother Dennis Thomas passed away on June 7, 2019 at the age of 39. He was far too young and the world lost a shining star that day. Even though things did not always go his way, they were going well at the end of his life. Opportunities were popping up all around him. Then, he suffered an unexpected accident.

Anne Frank once said, “Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude.” I do not want to give my brother flowers and I do not want to live with regrets. I want to keep his legacy alive with story and memory.

I am going to remember him the way he should be remembered.

The Good Old Days

I remember the first time I got to hold my baby brother. I was five-years-old and my mom’s smile was full of nerves that silently begged I not drop him. He wore a powder blue onesie and his head was coated in peach fuzz. I swelled with pride, somehow knowing this little guy was going to have a huge influence on my life.

I remember how much he did (not) really like bananas as a little kid. My mom was so proud he “liked” fresh fruit she gave him banana after banana, not realizing he was just stuffing them into the VCR. Let’s say it was interesting when my parents tried to put on a movie!

I remember the time my mom finally took a little time for some self-care and put on a facial mask. It happened to have the green undertones of a Shrek-ian ogre. My baby brother, a few years old at the time, ran out of the room screaming. It took a while to calm him down but we always got a good laugh out of it.

I remember our awesome Halloween costumes as kids, especially when he put on the Arab robes. No cultural appropriation here, folks. We are half Lebanese.

I remember how he usually got his way because he was “the baby”. It drove my sister and I nuts.

Growing Up in the ‘Hood

I remember playing in the neighborhood as kids. We may have been unlucky to live on a poor street but we were lucky enough to live one block from a park. That kept us active. We ran around, played basketball, splashed in the public pool (when it was open), got free lunches in the summertime (when the program was offered), and picked raspberries off the trees.

I remember when a group of neighborhood kids would walk downtown together to visit stores and even the local library. Though it was shy of a mile away, we had to cross major intersections to get there. It always felt like a big adventure. It gave us the independence to feel all grown-up when we were little more than grade-school kids. When we went to the mall to see a movie in the theater, forget about it!

I remember how often he and my sister Kim got into trouble together. Though they were three years apart, they were essentially twins — in looks and in personally, vibrant all around. They complemented one another in ways only a sibling can. They had befriended Mikey and Johnny, the sons of the used car dealer two doors down. Wouldn’t you know, while goofing around in one of the cars, my sister accidentally released the emergency brake and the car slid downhill into a busy street with them both inside?!

I remember him calling for a ride home from Sandwich, MA (we lived in New Bedford, MA). He went for a bike ride “in the neighborhood” with Johnny and ended up 34 miles from home. They didn’t call him “Dennis the Menace” for nothing!

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

I remember how easily he made friends. How could anyone resist that big goofy smile?

I remember how much he busted his ass working with my dad on roofing and construction projects.

I remember his pride at working as an animal control officer in New Bedford. He told me stories about being taken on police raids and how proud he was to stand up in the face of danger.

I remember his heartbreaks because they broke my heart too. Whether it was his divorce or the loss of our father and grandfather, he knew I was there to hold his hand.

I remember how he was always there to celebrate my accomplishments, whether it was graduation from high school, college, or medical school. He stood by me on my wedding day and cheered me on when I published my first book.

I remember how kind he was to my children, so soft and gentle. He was their godfather and he truly lit up when he saw and played with them.

I remember the sudden change in his body when he discovered the gym. One day he was my baby brother and months later he was not so little. Who knew you could build muscles that big?

I remember his love of superhero movies so much so that I had to start watching them myself. He hooked me. He loved the Avengers, and while he had a pension for Iron Man, Captain America was the one for me. At least we both liked the same DC characters, Christian Bale’s Batman in particular.

I remember his love for Game of Thrones. Though I never watched the show, I appreciated his imagination for other worlds. I finally started watching it. The Red Wedding, damn.

I remember he was a dreamer, always hoping for more though he never really knew how to get there.

I remember his long and winding stories and most of all, I remember his big heart.

Tears in Heaven

Of course, he was not perfect. He had his flaws like the rest of us, but he also had resiliency. He was, after all, a Thomas. We had been through so much growing up. He always held near and dear what was important and that was family. Even when he got sidetracked along the way, he always found his way home.

I love you, baby brother. Always have, always will. This is not goodbye, never goodbye, for some day in heaven we will meet again.