My brother Bill died unexpectedly at the age of 57 in 2022. He was 4 1/2 years older than me. I have experienced a lot of losses over my life. Losing my brother Bill was the hardest.

Bill terrorized me and I terrorized him. He would take my hand and do the age old “why are you hitting yourself?” routine.

He and my brother Jerry were the masterminds behind the biggest trauma of my childhood. My oldest sister was a beautician, and my mom would have her perm my hair. As straight as my hair is, it curl really well. I would always end up looking like a cross between an old woman and Shirley Temple. One day, Jerry and Bill rewrote the song to Jessie’s Girl and they both may be gone now but it is still sung to me “lately something’s changed that is hard to define, Heidi got herself a hairdo and I want to make it mine…I wish I had Heidi’s hair.” Decade of counselling to overcome this trauma 😉

I love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Their music is so beautiful and majestic and touches my soul in a way I cannot explain. I love listening to Christmas Canon, Requiem, Beethoven, Christmas/Sarajevo 12/24, and Fur Elise play. There is a song by them called The Music Box. And every time I hear it, I get tickled. One of my funniest and most precious Christmas memories of Bill comes to mind.

In the town I grew up in, there was a little shop in the downtown called “The Music Box Haus”. They sold every kind of music box you could imagine. One of my best friends worked there throughout high school. It was a cool store to visit and was known throughout northeast Ohio. Somehow my brother got the idea that I collected music boxes.

I didn’t.

And he got me one every Christmas and for every birthday for about 5 years. I think as a teen I went through a phase of collecting panda bears and he got me a musical panda bear and got it all confused…who knows…

I still have the last one he got me. It was a beautiful porcelain music box of sea weed and a conch shell. So ugly it was beautiful. And the music would go perfect with a synchronized swimming routine. In fact, I had a dance for it. And my dancing is as bad as my singing (but I digress).

My last music box I got from my brother. I call it “The Seaweed and Conch”.

Bill and I worked together at Papa Joes’s Pizza place for a while. One Christmas we were at work and he told me that he hadn’t had time to go and get me a music box for Christmas but he was going to write a check so that I could go and pick one out for myself from the Music Box Haus across the street.  I figured 5 years was enough and I had better tell him. Plus, I had a friend with me at work so he couldn’t kill me in front of witnesses.  I can still see the scene like it was yesterday. “Bill, I don’t collect music boxes…I never did. I’m sorry I didn’t say something before now.” He didn’t believe me at first. I think he got a little mad. And I think he asked me why I hadn’t told him before. I think I told him that it took me about 3 years to realize that’s what he thought and by that time it was too late to really say anything. He started laughing. And so did I. He grabbed his check book and wrote a check for $50 and in the memo he wrote “for a @$%# music box”.

The ironic thing is that music box is one of my most treasured possessions. It reminds me of Bill.  And it’s a memory of just me and him.

When we were kids, I would tell Bill that I really didn’t exist, that I was a figment of his imagination. This went on for a while. Exasperated, he finally said, “Mom, tell Heidi to knock it off.” And my mom’s response, “Who’s Heidi?” 😊

I was really missing Bill at the beginning of the year and wrote this in my journal:

I think of you whenever the Buckeyes play.

I think of you every Christmas Eve service when we light the candles. I remember how by alerting the family my hair was on fire because I had fallen asleep, you saved me from serious harm and yet you somehow got blamed for it.

I think of you when I hear the song “Free Bird”.

I think of you every Superbowl.

I think of you when I walk past St. Mary’s Church. You would play basketball there growing up and if you had no one else to play with you would let me tag along. I also always had to be the pickle in the middle.

I think of you whenever I see a music box.

I think of you when I see an Amish person ;).

I think of you whenever someone talks about Fantasy Football and Baseball (Bill was the first to win a national tournament in two major sports; football and baseball). He was a savant when it came to sports statistics.

I think of you every time I hear the band Kiss. And when there is a lip syncing competition…we did air band/lip syncing on the back picnic table with tennis rackets and garbage cans before it became thing (you and Penny would allow me to participate sometimes).

I think of you whenever I see or buy a crazy kitchen gadget. We got that from dad.

I am grateful you were my brother though we had a few rough patches. I am grateful we got to work together at Papa Joes though I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Oh the memories. Fortner and I were just talking about our Papa Joe days on Friday.

I miss you and am grateful that you were my brother.