Jeffrey L. Reiner
Today is my brother Jeff’s 9th birthday since he passed away. In August, it will be 10 full years since he left this earth. Today is one of those end of winter kind of spring days that would have had Jeff seriously planning the changes he would make in their beautiful, old English gardens.
Losing Jeff was one of the most significant losses of my life. My grief, in not having him here, is still very present. He was our kind, smart, generous, extremely funny Rock of Gibraltar.
That’s not to say there weren’t hard times; times when Jeff was angry and even difficult. But those times were short and few.
Four years senior to Ken, my twin brother, and me I truly don’t recall a time in my life when Jeff didn’t have time for us. My sister-in-law Angela asked me a few years back if I would like to write some of my thoughts about Jeff to share. For some reason, now, the time feels right. Here are a few things about my “big brother” Jeffrey, as I always called him, that I’d like you to know.
As background, looking back, and hearing everyone else’s stories, we three had an idyllic upbringing—until our mother died. Prior to that time, she quietly ruled the roost and kept our father’s larger than life ego and personality, his competitiveness even with his children, and his somewhat narcissistic tendencies in check. Our growing up was filled with family vacations, eating dinner together every night, table manners, phone manners, and a strong love of and bond of family. These values were non-negotiable. With that in mind, Jeffrey took his responsibility of big brother to the “twins,” as we were known, quite seriously.
Among my strongest memories:
Jeffrey walking Ken and me to school when we were 5 years old and in kindergarten. This happened just a few times, but Jeffrey must have wanted to and our mother agreed, likely nervously following behind. I remember it vividly. Jeff holding my hand on one side, and Ken’s on the other. Jeffrey walked tall in the middle, with the biggest smile on his face.
Jeff broke his arm playing baseball. He must have been around 10 years old. It was a huge deal, and he was treated and got a cast at our local hospital. Once he was home, Jeff asked our Mom to sign his cast first. Ken and I watched in awe—our Mom writing in script, in ink on his glaringly white cast. It was a lot to take in. Then he said Ken and I could sign it. Mind you—his arm was not that big and we were just 6 and printed in large letters. He was patient while we signed, and even seemed pleased although we took up the biggest and best spaces.
When we were growing up, before Jeffrey became a teenager and his face became thinner with high cheekbones that accentuated his green eyes, his face was fuller, with rosy cheeks. He tanned in the summer, unlike me who managed to mostly burn and get more freckles. His eyes always sparkled. Looking back at photos, he was adorable.
On our famous family driving trips, to Connecticut, Pennsylvania—even when we were just driving to New Jersey to visit family—there we were in the back seat, with Jeff in the middle. He never complained about it, graciously providing the wedge between the two rambunctious “twins,” entertaining us, and keeping the peace.
Every year for my entire life, until August 3, 2015, my brother Jeff’s call was the first of the day on my birthday. This included when he was abroad, on vacation, traveling for work—every year, always. I think he alternated calling me first one year and then Ken first the next. It’s one of the things that made my birthday a special day!
And when I met Barry, my husband of more years than I can count, I recall having dinner with Jeffrey and my father, after Barry asked me to marry him. Jeff asked me, “Don’t you think this is a little precipitous?” as I was only 19 years old at the time. I smiled, and said, “I don’t know Jeffrey, I have to look that word up before I can answer that.” He was not amused. But I knew that he was protecting me…being the best big brother he could be. We laughed about that exchange many times as the years went by—and once in a while we would ask that question of one another on totally unrelated, and usually ridiculous occasions.
There are so many anecdotes I could share. I was proud of Jeffrey all of my/his years. I was so proud that he was my brother—I still am. He taught me about how to be and what is important. He was one of the greatest influences in my life and I know he is a large part of who I am and the successes I have enjoyed. He always made me feel that he thought I was the best sister he could have, and could do anything. I believe he was proud of me too, both Ken and me.
Many of you who follow thehummingbirdpost.com know that Jeffrey was the inspiration for this whole enterprise, and it is dedicated to his memory. These are just a few of the reasons why.
Note: In the spirit of transparency, I recently learned that my brothers, in fact, didn’t share the same memory of an “idyllic childhood” that I have. How does that happen? I will learn more and possibly come back to this topic at a later date to share the results of my exploration.
If you are remembering someone you loved and lost, or are just a lover of The Band, please click here to enjoy Levon Helm’s, When I Go Away. Talk about standing the test of time. It’s great.
