Jimmy

Remembering my brother Jimmy, who passed away 52 years ago today at 16 years old. Riding his new bicycle, Jimmy was struck by an inattentive driver on a drizzly summer evening at the intersection of Lees Lane and Belmont, a lane often used as a shortcut by walkers, and rarely by cars.
Like most brothers and sisters so close in age, we alternately got along or drove each other crazy. Jimmy was a world champion teaser. But, he was also a “yes ma’am, no sir” kind of kid towards adults, so many of his shenanigans went unpunished while I earned a reputation as a tattletail. We had our good times, too. Jimmy was always willing to have a catch, shoot the hoops, or walk the beach and boards down the shore.
Some of his pranks earned my begrudging respect. He would sometimes pretend to be sleep walking just to scare me at night. Once, I woke up screaming as a red glowing face crawled into my bedroom: Jimmy, with a red flashlight under his chin.
A child’s passing leaves an unusual mark on a family. Jimmy has remained a kid, while I have become an old lady. I often wonder what it would have been like to grow old together. I like to imagine that he would have enriched my life, and stopped the pranks.

And that’s what Deb said.