Brother
This is a passage from a famous sermon by Henry Scott Holland:
Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well.I think James might comment that this poem is a bit optimistic on the topic of death, but I’ll take the opposing view and say it is wholly appropriate.
Of course I am sad beyond belief, but I have to say I am angry as well over his sudden departure. He had accomplished so much, and touched so many but there was much more James had to do. I’ll put these feelings aside for now and share with you a few recollections I’ve recently had of James.
After a good day in the city, we’d return to the place in Queens and James would enthusiastically scoop Solomon up, and while cradling the happy cat, speak fluent Arabic to him in a broad booming voice-the cat meowing in return. It was the only cat in the world who understood Arabic.
When James was in high school, I tried to pass on the virtues of pool hopping to him. I left town and a week later I got a call from Mom. It seems the police had come to the door with a waterlogged wallet bearing James’ name. Apparently James did go pool hopping but forgot to leave his wallet at home.
His ability to show patience and love to both my kids when I was ready to strangle them, as well as his devotion to teaching Taekwondo, was amazing.
His matter-of-fact analysis that there was no way the Cleveland Cavaliers' puny guards could deal with Lewis and Türkoğlu of the Orlando Magic proved prophetic.
James' knowledge of Middle Eastern culture and his command of its language awed and inspired me.
Our occasional fondness of tobacco – his enjoyed through a long pipe that bubbles, mine between the cheek and gum. Further evidence James would say, with a laugh, of the sophistication gap between New York and Cincinnati.
Thank you all for being a significant part of James' life. Perhaps in some way we all can carry forward his spirit and instill it within our own lives.
I will miss you every day brother
My love from here to heaven
– Sean
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