In the midst of great news, I received bad news. I imagine I've reached an age where pure good news is a rarity.
 
In another lifetime, I was married and had a family, in-laws, I loved a great deal. My ex-wife and I weren't the best match, but I was quite enamored of her family. That's no reflection on her, I'm a rather immature male, typical of my sub-species in many unfortunate ways. Not her fault. Opinions vary though, and some find me to be charming and quite a hoot.
 
In any case, I was an only child and married into this large family and just like that I was surrounded by brothers and sisters. Also, I had no father and my mother was mentally ill. So, I got a father in the deal and an awesome mother-in-law to boot.
 
All of that is a story or stories for another time. One of my brothers, John, got married. He was quite young, too young as far as most of the family were concerned. In any case, his wife was pregnant and I was Godfather to his baby, a beautiful girl named Ixchelle. Yes, what a gorgeous unusual name.
 
I took the title and responsibility seriously.
 
It wasn't long after that my marriage failed and I was divorced. Being as though it WAS my ex-wife's family, I saw no choice but to fade from view. Reluctantly, that is what I did.
 
I kept loosely in touch with a couple family members, but for the most part, I was no longer in the family and virtually disappeared. It seemed like the natural course of events under the circumstances. As far as me being Godfather, I assumed, it wouldn't be remembered or cared about.
 
Recently, I received a message on Facebook from my Goddaughter. She had been looking for me. It did matter to her. I was quite touched and if it mattered to her, it certainly mattered to me. That was the very good news. And it IS the very good news.
 
Sadly though, at the same time, I learned that my brother, John had passed away just a few months before. Memories flooded back as clear as if it were yesterday. They were all of a young boy grown into a young man and then a young father. He was only fifty-eight-years-old when he died, shockingly young.
 
I'm just getting to know my newly found Goddaughter and have stories of her father to relate to her from back in the day.
 
Now, I have these stories to mull over myself, in memoriam it turns out.
 
John was turning thirteen when I meet him, I being his sister's new husband. He was the oldest of the boys and the wildest I must say. I became a big brother to him as all his older siblings were girls and all were adults. I was pleased to be the older brother to John, his two brothers and little sister. Remember, I was an only child. This was new and most welcome to me .
 
John was determined. I'm sure some might call it headstrong, but I'm going with determined.
 
I recall the time I bought a Mercury Montero police car at an auction. It needed an engine rebuild and John talked me into it, assuring me we could rebuild it. I'm not easy to talk into anything ... ask around. Well, I bought the car, we got the manual, and "WE" ripped the engine and everything else out and somehow rebuilt it, and put it back together. To this day, the sound of that car turning over and us driving down the street is one of the greatest achievements in my life. That was John at his finest, vintage perfect John. I can still hear that engine roar.
 
Decades have passed since I last saw John, but there are a couple "John things" I still say or do. I still say, when a football player makes his opponent look especially bad, "he made him STINK!"-- a John phrase.
 
I still break into the old, old theme music for football highlights and announce plays from long gone football stars of yesteryear-- du do du do du du, du du du do du du It was below freezing at soldier's field, the Vikings on their own fifteen-yard line, Van Brocklin back to pass, he's going loooooonnnnnng, TOUCHDOWN Minnesota. We loved football back then. I often mimic John doing the highlights and no one has a clue where I got it from. My own little private joke between me and him.
 
See, people do live on as long as we remember them.

What I love, is when a friend mimics ME mimicking John doing the football highlights. THAT is spreading it out there.
 
I'll miss John even though I haven't seen him in all those years. It hurts knowing I'll never have the chance.

I do thank him though for guiding his beautiful daughter to her Godfather. No worries, Brother, I'll keep an eye on her. R.I.P.