The name fit him so well. Sparky. Few could ignite a room with their humor, wit, or simply their garrulous laugh the way Sparky could. As an in-law he became a part of our family well beyond in-law status. I don't really remember the first time I met him, but I remember that he treated me like a brother and an equal, even though I was quite a bit younger.
I have two brothers. One who passed away when I was 17, and because of a 13 year age difference, and my youthful selfishness, I never developed a relationship the way I now wish I had. My other brother, eleven years older than me, well...maybe it's a post for another time but I'll just say that we are very different and, sadly, we haven't overcome those differences to have much of a relationship at all. Particularly sad in fact, considering that (or maybe because) we share the loss of our brother.
Sparky was everything I could want in a brother. He was fun and funny. He was smart and could share and relate his knowledge in many ways. He was an extremely talented artist, whose imagination and work I admired. But what I loved about him most was that he simply accepted me as a brother, where others may have quite understandably seen a pesky little brother-in-law, getting in the way and tagging along.
Sadly, for them (and for me), things didn't last with my sister and Sparky, eventually ending in their divorce. At the time I was clueless about their divorce and coincidentally, was pretty self absorbed in my own budding romance. I don't recall if it was implicit or explicit, but in the painful aftermath of their divorce I knew that my relationship with him was pretty much over as well. I was living a few hours away and so we hadn't kept in close communication anyway. They moved on, and I moved on with my life, which got very busy very quickly. I got married, started a business and family with my wife and bought a house-all in about 18 months. I could hardly look forward, never mind looking back.
Now I wish I had looked back. More often. Sooner. Somehow, I find myself missing him, even though we haven't had any meaningful contact in many years. Like many things in life (and death) sometimes you don't miss them until it's too late and they're gone.
As I began, the name Sparky truly fit. Shining bright, but all too brief. Rest in Peace, Sparky.
Peace to the Planet, and to Sparky...
I still have my Vermuda-Bermont t-shirt with the half dragon, half cow on it. I remember Sparky like you do. Maybe not so much, because he was your sister's husband, and you saw him more. But we all hung out together many times and he treated me the same way. Not like a side-kick or pesky teen. But like a younger brother. I thought Sparky was one of the coolest people I had ever met when I first met him. Peace now, Sparky.
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