Out of Aces

I have two brothers, Jeff and Steve.  They were handfuls when they were little, riding their bikes around the neighborhood, throwing pine cones, getting into trouble.  But they grew up to be good men.

My brother Steve still loves to ride his bike as fast as he can.  Competing professionally, he pushes the limit that his body can take.  My heart always skips a beat when I get the phone call saying that he’s been in an accident.  When he has his last serious accident and we didn’t know if he’d pull through, Jeff said..” If he does die, at least he died doing what he loved.   How many of us get to say that?  Like, I’m not going to die playing Poker.”  That was Jeff trying to see the best of the situation.  Of course there was a day in the Wild West when gamblers could die at the card table… at least that was how it was portrayed on Television.

When I was a girl I loved the show Maverick.  Brett Maverick was handsome and soft spoken.  He gambled on Riverboats and always was dodging danger and bullets.   In every episode he barely escaped falling in love and being thrown in jail.  But with his sideways smile, we knew he didn’t take himself too seriously.

My brother, Jeff, was a bit like Maverick.  He liked to work on his own schedule, planning his own jobs, being in charge of how he did it.  He took pride in his work, but didn’t brag about it.  He didn’t mind if you did though.  Like so many others, the economy had hit his business hard.  He was trying to figure out other ways he could support himself.   He was always looking for something better just down the road.

A few days ago Jeff had a stroke.  Despite the immediate medical attention, he didn’t recover.  At first we thought he might survive but be paralyzed, but the blood thinners he’d been on made surgery impossible and he continued to get worse.    Without hope of recovery, his three children made the difficult decision to take him off life support.  I was driving out to him with my family when my sister called telling me it wasn’t looking good.  I spoke to Steve and he told me it wouldn’t be long.  He held the phone to Jeff’s ear and I was able to say my goodbyes and told him to give my love to Dad and our sister Teresa.  And then he was gone.  Just like that.  We were halfway there with nine hours left to drive.  My husband drove and the rest of us cried.  We were at a fork in the road and took the wrong way and spent the next few minutes trying to find Highway 89.  For some reason 89 was always Jeff’s favorite number so I think he would have enjoyed that.

Jeff loved family gatherings but since we live so far apart it was always a struggle financially for him to come to all of them.  Somehow he managed to make it to most of the big ones.   Our daughter, Crystal, was married a month ago, and he worried about how he would get the money to make it out.  I guess someone dented his car and he used the insurance money for gas out here.  He never told me that’s how he was able to make it.  He was so happy being here with his whole family.  I’m so thankful we were all together.   He was such a help at the wedding, setting up tables and chairs and even showing up at 7am the next morning to help take down the tents and tables and clean up the mess.  I remember him counting the 150 rental chairs twice for me.   He was moving a little slower, but never complained.  Now I wonder if he pushed himself too hard.

I didn’t realize how many friends Jeff had.  It shouldn’t have been a surprise.  He never knew a stranger and could make you feel like he’d known you forever.  When he turned seven he invited his whole class over for his birthday party.  Unfortunately he didn’t tell us ahead of time!  We didn’t know anything about it until kids started showing up at our door with gifts.   It turned out to be a great party!  Last week we had another unexpected party.  Over a hundred friends and family showed up with stories and pictures in Juniper Park where he’d played many softball games and thrown pine cones from the fort.  We mostly laughed and told “Jeff Stories” which he would have loved.  There were balloons and cookies and Chiefs and Ducks shirts everywhere.   There were lots of hugs and some tears too.  Friends told stories about how Jeff had helped them and taken them in, how he’d been there for them in hard times.  I never knew.

Jeff lived a full life in his 52 years.  He absolutely loved being a father and grandfather.  He made a few wrong turns along the way, but it got him to where he was.  He had his own home, his own business, good friends and family, and the promise of love.   He was a good listener and people watcher.  That may have been what made him such a good poker player.  At his last Monday night poker game, surrounded by friends, he had his stoke.  His good friend and pastor, Dennis was by his side.  His son was there in minutes and Jeff looked up and tried to say “Hey Bud”.  His died doing what he loved.  Who could ask for more?

His kids brought his poker chips to the celebration of his life and passed them out.  I’m holding one now.  It makes me think of the song that came out the year he graduated from high school, “The Gambler”.  “You gotta know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away, know when to run.”    I don’t know if he liked that song.  He may have hated it.  But it’s a song about a man’s last moments.  It’s about making decisions in life, and about reading people’s faces.  That’s something Jeff knew a lot about.

It wasn’t hard to read the faces gathered to honor him in the park.  There were the brave faces of his children, speaking from the heart about their Dad.  There were people with sunglasses hiding their swollen eyes, and those laughing a little too loud to cover their pain.  But mostly, there was love.  Lots of love for Jeff.   When you leave this world, you can’t take any of your winnings with you, but you can take all the love.  I’d say Jeff more than “broke even”.