My big brother mentor

I don't think my brother Roger ever knew how much I looked up to him -- how much I respected him, admired him, enjoyed talking with him. Roger would've been 60 years old this coming May 4, but he left us way too early last May when he was found on the floor of his Mitchell home.
Roger was my mentor. And he was a character. I never realized how much so until his fellow workers at D&E Music and Vending talked about his work life in the days following his death. It was easy to tell how much they also admired and liked him. And how badly they too would miss him.
Rog had so many qualities I would love to emulate. Like Dad, he loved working with wood. If Roger is known for one thing, besides his total devotion in looking after Mom in her widowed years, it was his beautiful, ornate clocks. Rog built several of those beauties -- his first one we still display now in our home but will eventually go to his Goddaughter, Melissa. What incredibly intricate work, what infinite patience, to craft such beautiful clocks. And why didn't I get any of that talent? I have neither the patience nor the talent to hammer two boards together. Ugh.
I think Rog was truly an angel. I know he was in Mom's eyes. For so many years after Dad passed away Roger would come down on Tuesday nights as well as Saturday afternoons and Sundays, and visit with Mom, take her to medical appointments, eat meals with her, look after her well-being and her finances. We left so much of those responsibilities to Rog and he handled them flawlessly. We had nothing to worry about because Rog had our backs.
It became the kids' and my routine to visit Mom and Rog on Saturday afternoons. That usually meant kicking back in Mom's apartment with the Twins game on the radio. We'd visit about the week's activities. I'd get caught up on the week's Daily Republics, maybe watch some TV and before we left there'd be a bowl of ice cream. It was always fun, but I particularly looked forward to our visits when Roger was there.
And anything about electronics or computers meant I was on the phone to Rog. Another quality I loved was despite my calls and probably constant little-brother aggravations, I never once -- never even once -- in all the years remember Rog ever losing his patience, or treating me like I was a pesty little brother. I don't think I even remember him ever raising his voice. He always had time to talk, patiently answering my questions or offering advice. And he knew so much.
And now that he's gone he's left us mementos of his life. But nothing, and I mean nothing, can replace a great brother, mentor, adviser, role model and friend. I'd give anything to have Rog around to call, to reminisce with, to ask questions of, to emulate, to kick around the Twins' chances of winning their division again.
Be ready for us, Rog. I can't wait to talk with you again about the upcoming season.