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Forsgren: Gifts my brother gave me

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It was a moment that completely re-arranged my reality.

About a half hour into my shift at the University of Utah bookstore, a co-worker handed me the phone receiver, telling me I had a call. On the other end of the line, my mom told me I needed to head home. There was a tremor in her voice that told me that something catastrophic had happened. Then, she hit me with it. My younger brother, we’ll call him “Pookie,” was dead.

There’s nothing that can prepare you to hear that someone you love has been murdered. The emotional tide that sweeps over you is crushing and this event knocked me for a loop that I’m still recovering from to this day. But while there are several times a year, especially around the holidays, where I really miss Pookie, the days where I sit around crying about it are, for the most part, gone.

One thing that has really helped me is to look around my life and take stock of all the little bits of my brother that are still present in my life. When I do that, it becomes clear that Pookie left me a lot of little gifts that I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. Allow me to share a couple gifts that Pookie left me.

A Realization of the Power (and hilarity) of a Single Syllable

Pookie and I used to load into my car late at night, crank up the heavy metal music, and go for long drives in the country. We’d sing along with the radio, guzzle Mountain Dew and have a lot of laughs. But the best moments were when we’d pass a pasture full of cows. Pookie would stick his head out the window (regardless of how cold it was outside) and would yell “MOOOOOOOOOO” at the cows. It was kind of dopey, but it made me laugh, so uncontrollably at times, that I’d have to pull over and regain my composure.

When I’m writing my own stuff, I always remember the laughs my brother gave me from the use of just one syllable. And I remember the power and hilarity that can come from one word.

My Love for Weezer

Weezer is my all-time favorite rock band, thanks to experiences I had with the record “Pinkerton” in college. But it was Pookie who initially planted the Weezer seed in my brain. He used to run around the house singing “If you want to destroy my sweater”. As a full-on thrash metal fan, I wouldn’t listen to anything that didn’t thrash like Overkill or Testament. I certainly wasn’t giving a bunch of nerds singing about a sweater the time of day. But it was amusing to hear Pookie sing silly little tunes, and that note did get caught in my brain.

A few years later, when I actually took the time to listen to Weezer, it all made sense. I got why Pookie was so excited about the band, and that got me excited about the band. It’s been hearts, flowers and chocolate-covered cinnamon bears ever since.

An Unforgettable Image of What the Inside of the Human Pinky Finger Looks Like

I was watching “Monday Night Football” one night, when Pookie interrupted me. He kept calling to me telling me I needed to come help. I kept ignoring him because my Miami Dolphins were playing. After a few minutes of shouting, I got up to give him a dirty look to show him i meant business. To my surprise, he was standing right behind me, arm extended. And where the pinky on his extended hand should’ve been, there was a bone with a bloody flap of skin hanging from it.

That image is something I can never unsee. On the plus side, if I ever wind up directing a horror movie, my brother’s skinless pinky bone will serve as perfect inspiration.

An Understanding of the Importance of Being Yourself

I have a confession to make. Back in the day, in high school, I tried a little too hard to fit in socially. As a fat kid with terrible self-esteem, I felt the only way to make the associated feelings of inferiority and worthlessness was to blend into as many cliques and be as popular as possible. I didn’t appreciate my own weirdness the way I do today. And to be popular, I played a character that was not me a lot of the times.

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Pookie didn’t seem to have that problem. He was Pookie no matter what situation he was in and if someone didn’t like him, that was their problem, not his. I’ve always respected him for that and tried to adapt that kind of attitude into my own life. Yeah, there are a lot of folks out there who don’t like me. Thanks to the example Pookie set for me, I can say that it’s too dang bad for them.

For these, and so many other gifts my little brother left me, I am so immensely thankful. I love you, Pookie. I hope that we can meet again someday in that Taco Bell in the Sky.

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