First and Last

James R. Stoops
10/13/1945 - 10/09/2010

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no tears in a gloom-filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

He was nine when I came into the world, me the little sister-new kid on the block, he the big brother master of ropes. His job title notwithstanding, lessons from him came subtly without conditions or disclaimers.

Nearly a decade separating us, he was always one heartbeat away. And in that quiet rhythm he flowed beneath my skin, sharing the same DNA - first in every way.

On the ninth day of the tenth month somewhere near the eighth hour of morning, he left me. But as I slept within my last dream of the night, I felt him sweep over me, pulling my eyes wide open, his final whisper flowing down my cheeks.

I will miss you older brother of mine - you were the other part of our secret bookends, holding it together for those in between. On the other side you now walk free, your great wings outstretched keeping yet another eye over me.