And then there were four

Folks, this hasn't been a banner year for my extended family and I.

Starting with last summer's cancer diagnosis and treatment debacle for my brother Rob, the Porter clan was rocked to its foundation by the tragic and senseless loss of my next youngest brother Dave when an orange Kia Soul made the horrible and inexplicable decision to turn left in front of him as he rode his motorcycle home from work. Although we don't have a lot of details, we do know that the unavoidable collision catapulted him off his bike and the resulting impact produced injuries he succumbed to at the scene. The accident report stated that his helmet did the trick but the internal organ damage from the impact was too extensive and he was pronounced at the scene.

Anger ... Frustration ... Anguish ... Exasperation.

The waves of emotions from the news of the accident crashed like the white capped fury the NW winds pound the beaches with here in Wasaga. Anger with the 66 y driver. Anguish that he's gone forever. Frustration that life changed in the blink of an eye. Exasperation from the fallout of decisions that never should have had to be made. 

My sister-in-law survived her worst nightmare after discovering the reality while searching for Dave when dinner was missed and phone calls were unreturned. She happened on the scene just down from his office, and immediately recognized his motorcycle's wreckage. With the weight of a million thoughts crushing her, she somehow found the strength to both manage the shock and despair of two dispondant children while making the call to informed my mom her boy was gone. 

If that's not courage then I don't know anything.

My mom had to make 3 calls that she never dreamed would fall on her shoulders when she reached out to her remaining three sons with the horrible news. This was not the way life plays out, the horror of a child predeceasing her like a dagger through her heart. Belying her anguish, she demonstrated incredible bravery as her voice cracked when I answered, and I knew something significant had occurred. 

If you're a parent, imagine making that call. It's the stuff of night terrors.

I remember getting a different call that morning on September 15th, 2006, informing me that my father had passed early in the dawning light, but this was completely different. Then, I had time to grapple my demons since the cancer that eventually took him was slow and methodical, the grieving process well underway prior to the Reaper's arrival.

The resultant shock of Dave's demise left me numb, confused, and incredulous.

The dawn of the next day saw my extended family rally around it's matriarch in an effort to stem the tidal wave of emotions that were still raw and stark, but we found the company buffered the pain, allowing the occasional smile as we recounted the impact our one-of-a-kind son/brother had taken on us. My mother has oft proclaimed her success as a parent, reasoning that her skill in raising four boys as different as fire and ice was proof enough. Dave was limited edition ... it's incredibly difficult to use the past tense here ... with confidence out the wazoo, fiercely loyal, highly intelligent, a biting wit, and a mischievous grin. Many of the messages we've received from friends in the fallout rave about pranks and stunts born in that devious brain of his.

By far, the toughest act for me was the simple push of the doorbell when Joyce and I visited Dave's home in hopes of consoling Cheryl and the kids. The ensuing greetings were wet with tears amidst strangling embraces as wave after wave of anguish bubbled to the surface yet again. We offered our thoughts, shared our stories, and pondered our questions before once again personifying our love in a tight embrace. Cheryl will need us all to step forward bravely in support as she copes with the love of her life's demise, such was the family that she and Dave had created, his loss leaving a gaping hole in their tight-knit group. 

At the risk of sounding cliche, their love was the stuff of fairly tales, born out of a staff meeting at Consumer's Distributing so many moons ago, each proudly proclaiming the other as their soulmate. No sun shone brighter than Dave's face when he talked about Cheryl and his kids Teresa + Derk. I know from our one on ones that he was never happier than when he spent time with his family.

Dave and I had a solid relationship, even by brother standards. We talked every couple of months, using each as a sounding board for life's trials, and despite holding profoundly different passions, often found common ground on a few items. I, the educator, in service to the public, while he, the self-proclaimed "Geek", navigating the turbulent waters of the business world, we shared a proclivity for analyzing the happenings around us with a curious eye. We both felt strongly about service to our fellow man, me in education and coaching, he in Rotary. We also shared similar political views and rarely were at a loss for words when discussing the government's curious decisions or society's woes. When either of us was being an ass, we challenged the other in a calm and loving manner (cue the sarcasm), but that was the end of it, and it never ended with offense or hard feelings.

Dave was famous for throwing a controversial quip into the air and waiting with a grin for the reaction.

Coming from the same gene pool, we shared boatloads of moral and genetic gifts thanks to our parents, but while I embraced sports first playing then coaching, he embraced creation, first with sculpting and 3-D printing for cosplay props, then with his YouTube channel. 

I'll miss him terribly, and the upcoming service will take everything I have to hold it together for Cheryl and the kids (INFO), but the closure will bring some small respite to a tumultuous 10 days. 

My birth family started out at six, but along Life's way, only four remain. Armed with the experience of grieving my dad's passing, I know that our brains will eventually lock on to the positive, burying the pain of the loss away, allowing us to embrace our loved brother's memories, but I also know that the only way it happens is with the passage of time. 

Cheryl, Teresa, Derk and my mom, Andrea, will need to take a lot of time for this one. It falls on Rob, Mike and I to make sure they have everything they need to endure the process.

Pray for us folks.

RIP Dave. I love you.