David

I showed up when he was 10 years old, and I know my arrival had to have thrown a rather large monkey wrench into the works. I was a little terror – a ball of energy – and it couldn’t have been easy to deal with the changes my coming brought into the household. I only know that David was nothing – NOTHING – but kind to me.

When he left to go to the U of R., I was eight years old. I had no idea what was going on. All of a sudden, on what I thought was a random Saturday morning, my father was backing a U-Haul down the driveway; he stopped it at the open garage door and the three of them – Betty, Dewey, David – started loading all of my brother’s stuff into it. What the FUCK?? Where was he going? Why? Weren’t we going too? What did this mean? My Mother, the Vault, said, “He’s going to college.” College? What the hell was college? Where was THAT? Was he ever coming back? Turns out, he wasn’t, not really. He had grown up and I was being left behind. My Cohort in Crime, my Big Brother, as going away. The U-Haul pulled out, my heart was breaking, and I was alone. I cried for weeks.

Of course, I did see him again. He got married to Steph – and that’s another story I totally didn’t get, but it had a very happy ending. Michael arrived. David and I both graduated, high school for me, Albany Law for him. I went to college. Then work. Jim was born. I got married, and Ed joined the crew. We kept on growing up and, miraculously, David and I grew back together. We looked alike, laughed alike, thought alike. Same twisted sense of humor, thanks to Betty. We lost her, then our father. We navigated some rough waters, but we had each other. We figured it out. As we always said, each of us had one-half of the same brain. Just the other day he said to me, “People don’t realize that if you stand us side by side and squint your eyes, we’re the same person.” It’s true. We are.

And now, my heart is breaking again. He’s all done growing up, leaving me behind. No U-Haul this time, but once again I don’t really understand where he’s going. I’ll be crying for weeks. Months. Years. Last time this happened, I did see him again and we had more adventures together. I can only have faith that this will once again be the case, and that we can revisit our classic rendition of Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its’ Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight. We gave a notable performance in the parking lot of a gin mill the night before Jim and Jess’ wedding and, as he ALSO said the other day while were hanging out and telling lies, “I think that was our finest hour.” I have to agree.

Every time something happened in my life, I was on the horn with David, talking it out. Cursing the assholes. Giving credit where it was due. And then, right before we hung up he would say, “Be strong, Baby Sis. Don’t let the bastards get you down. More will be revealed.” He was always right, but I really needed to hear him say it, because then I could believe.

So. Here we all are, left behind without our Earl David Steenburg. Seems impossible but, as he would say, “These are the jokes.” I wish him peace, and joy, and horrible puns, and race cars, and meatloaf sandwiches, and Congo Squares, and cherished memories of all he held dear. His was a big, marvelous life, and I wish him all that is good in whatever life comes next for him. But most of all, selfishly I suppose, I wish he was still here.

Safe travels, Big Brother. I will always love you.