Today is the 48th birthday of my brother Gerry. Gerry died almost six years ago, after succumbing to a three year battle with colon and liver cancer.
My sister and two brothers were all born close together. Gerry was the closest of my siblings to me in age. He was born less than 15 months after me and we grew up close. Of course, being boys close in age, he and I had our share of fist fights. I was the older and faster, but he was stockier and had more natural strength. We both had a fair amount of boxing experience by the time of our last fight. I was seventeen and he was sixteen at the time. I started the fight, for reasons that I have long since forgotten, but I do remember being the guilty party.
This was the first and only fight between us where blood was spilt. We had several friends with us, and neither one of us wanted to look soft in front of our friends, so the fight went on longer than it would have other wise. I remember, I punched him in the face, cut his cheek and saw blood on his face. When I saw the blood, I immediately wanted to quit, but he would have none of that and we started again. After a few more punches he caught me with right to the face and I too began to bleed. He dropped his fists wanting to stop, but this time I insisted on continuing.
The fight did not last much longer; right about that time our dad drove into the drive way. We both stopped then. Dad was angry. He saw two of his sons fighting one another, both cut and bleeding. I will not go into detail about what happened, but our friends quickly left our yard, Dad sent Gerry and me inside then he came in. My dad but an end to that fight, as he had so many others, but Gerry and I never fought again. Not too much after that I went in the Navy. When I returned four years later, Gerry was married and had a baby girl.
Gerry was always a good friend, I still miss him a great deal, but I know that we will meet again. He is with our Lord. He made his salvation sure while struggling with his cancer.