goodbye gentleman

last November my brother died. We were not close over our adulthood, but still, he was my brother. Last year, the day before Thanksgiving, I said goodbye to his cold hard body. 

He was a good brother. Kind, always happy to see me. Why didn't I understand the connection he held out to me? My first memory, him dragging his MAD magazines across our ugly living carpet, so I could crawl after them. He taught me to crawl, and to pursue satirical cartoons at the height of an era. He loved Elvis. He loved our father. Our Mom and he battled like hell, bitch that she could be, but he knew. He loved her. Me too.

I remember, Irvin. wishes don't count anymore, do they, brother?