My brother, George Clinton Porter III, but really -- always my "Georgie"....died this past week. It started out as a week of hope, then quickly turned into a weekend of despair, and finally a Sunday of deep and painful sadness, that reached the core of my being... The last generation came to a close with the death of my mother a few years ago, and since then, Georgie is the first of MY generation to die. A piece of "me" is gone...........
Georgie was:
- 10 years older than me. He was 6'6", tall, dark, and handsome! I always looked up to Georgie -- literally and figuratively.
- Georgie could do "anything", in this little girl's eyes.
- I remember mother saying she needed to feed him a loaf of bread before we went out to eat dinner, cause he ate so much. He always cleaned our plates for us when we could eat no more!
- Georgie would spin me and my sister around as we hung on to his arms while we squealed with delight.
- Georgie taught me how to shoot -- and he is a very good teacher!
- He gave me away at my wedding in place of my dad...
- He was so tender and loving -- a great communicator. I will miss his e-mails and letters that always ended with "love and kisses".
- He loved his wife and his children soooo much!
- He sent a crazy number of "forwards" each week -- drove me crazy -- but I already feel the empty place in my e-mailbox...
His funeral this week was a warm gathering of family and friends, paying tribute to and honoring a very great man.
I thank God for my brother. I am glad that he can be home with my Lord, breathing deeply with heavenly lungs and a brand new body...in that place of "...no more tears."
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