in memory of joscwar

me, Joscwar and Gregor 
Today my youngest brother died.  

He was the most kind-hearted, content and genuinely accepting person I know.  I'm not just saying that because he's dead either.  You know how people tend to wax nostalgic and say all manner of un-truth after a person is dead?  Well, that ain't the case here.  Just keepin' it real even in the midst of grief!  

Joshua was 24 years old.  Still a baby in my mind.  You see this post is titled "in memory of joscwar" because we (me and my siblings) always had nicknames for each other.  Each of us had several nicknames and for some reason, Joscwar (pronounced "joe-swar") is what stuck for Josh.  I referred to him as Joscwar when he answered the phone during our talk last week.  He was doing so well.  Working a great job downtown, living on his own, paying his bills, saving money, driving (which was a huge deal because he had seizures throughout his life) and maturing.  When we talked last week, I was so happy for him.  So proud of him.  I remember asking him about his apartment and whether or not he was happy with the area he chose.  He told me that it was a great choice and elaborated on safety features, mature neighbors and little to no foolywank.  Joscwar told me that he was glad he chose this location verses another more popular area for people his age.  I told him that he was so wise for his age.  He was an old soul.  As a toddler he wore suits (by choice!), carried his bible and talked to everyone we came across.  I ain't jokin!  Back in the day when young men bagged your groceries and took them out to your car, he'd talk their ear off!  He was the best listener, slow to speak and always encouraging and uplifting others.  He loved to make us laugh.  And didn't mind looking silly in the process.  He valued family, friends and peace.  

My other brother Darryl (remember that from Newhart?) nicknamed Gregor found Josh today.  Did I mention that today is Gregor's birthday?  Yeah... file that under things that break my heart.  But then I remember that brokenness and hope live in the same room... because they hold hands.  I wrote that post back in October when I found out that I was no longer pregnant.  The same shock that I felt then, I feel today; however, the shock and pain about the miscarriage (I dislike that word but can think of no other synonym!) hurts less today.  So I know this pain won't last forever.  I know Josh is happy, safe and complete in a way that defies description.  I know I will see him again one day.  The fact that he was secure in his faith and had a strong relationship with the Lord gives me much peace.  The passage of scripture I cling to in the face of death is 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18.  It is my reminder that there is hope.  Always.    

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