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TAMPA BAY • FEBRUARY 23-24 2026

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Brother’s Keepers

It’s only been a little over a year since my brother Tim died. That’s the first I’ve actually used the words died and Tim in the same sentence. It’s taken me a year and a half to accept that he’s gone. But I’m there now and I still don’t know how to feel. My brothers lived most of their lives self-sufficient, independent and had great opportunities and good jobs. They were always with a partner and to me were basically happy. But I am just now realizing how much they shouldered as the brothers. Tim was older than me but younger than our eldest brother, Arthur Jr.

There were a lot of secrets my brothers held between them. That’s because they truly were one another’s keepers.

They did most things together as kids, and when they were adults that didn’t change. My brothers, like us all, fought a lot of demons that we, their sisters and mom, knew nothing about. Tim often dealt with Art’s demons, and Art with Tim’s because they bailed one another out whenever they were in trouble. But as I look at them collectively in the past tense for the first time since March 1, 2022, I see how hard that must have been for them. They were manly men so much so that they didn’t want to burden our mom or us girls with the mental and physical things they went through together.

Art Jr was 8 years my senior. He was in the 3rd grade when I was born. He was smart and had a brilliant mind for business. He was a hustler from childhood. Not in a bad way. When our family fell on a hard time, I remember Art leaving the house and coming back hours later with food and of course candy for us. He never disappointed. As an adult, he suffered from horrible migraine headaches and chronic back and neck pain. After several surgeries, he ended up in the same if not more pain which left him with a lifelong battle with prescription drug abuse and depression. He hid his problems from all of us, except Tim, so we never suspected a thing. Throughout those painful years, he was married three times and had nine children.

His last move brought him back home to Alabama from Arizona to live with me, Mom, and our kids. Only then did I see just how bad his addiction had gotten? I learned for myself that someone has to want help before they’ll accept help. But his need to be out of pain both mentally and physically outweighed his need to get help until help wasn’t an option. Then one day he relapsed and promised to go to rehab. That evening he decided to walk to the store. Late June 18, 2009, on his way back, he collapsed two blocks from our home and died in a stranger’s yard from cardiac arrest due to an involuntary overdose at the age of 42.

Tim was always smart and nothing got passed him. He was the jokester of our family. He never let a somber season last too long without a joke that had us rolling with laughter. He had a way of making you feel safe. He worked hard all his life until his health began to fail due to End Stage Renal Failure. After his first stroke, doctors told him he’d never walk again. He not only walked but ran, playing basketball again before the year was out. Each stroke thereafter took a little more from him. He had a total of 7 strokes and 3 heart attacks and had been on dialysis for nearly 10 years. He was on life support 3 times if my memory serves me correctly. He also beat Covid. He fought his way back a little more impaired each time.

Diabetes, kidney failure, and a host of other issues caused him to eventually lose both his legs. After the last amputation, he began showing signs of losing grip on reality. Slowly, we noticed him slipping away. He was diagnosed with early-onset dementia during his last hospital stay. His doctors admitted him from rehab into the nursing home stating we could no longer care for him at home. Shortly after Covid hit. For his first year there, we could not go see him unless it was through a window. After that, he had his good days and bad days and came home to visit for New Year’s 2022. It was as if he knew. March 1, 2023, he unexpectedly passed following a cardiac arrest at the age of 51.

They are once again their brother’s keeper! You both are loved and missed endlessly!!

Valerie Collins
Valerie Collinshttps://mypoeticlifebook.wordpress.com/
Valerie Collins was born in Tucson, Az, the last of six children. She has loved writing since a child but decided to pursue a career in Orthopedic nursing. Shortly after her marriage and birth of her first child at the age of 22, she was diagnosed with the chronic pain disease, Fibromyalgia, its subsequent conditions, illnesses, and syndromes. Once the disease disabled her in 2001, she revisited her passion for writing poetry and short stories and has accumulated over 100 poems and spoken word pieces over the years. She became a member of the International Society of poets in 2002 and The International Who's Who in Poetry in 2006. She currently is a member of Realistic Poetry International, Who's Who Among American Business Women, and Women of Facebook Create. Her accolades include 2005 Poet of the Year. She was awarded both the Outstanding Achievement Award in Poetry and the Official Commemorative Poetry Ambassador Medal while serving as a Poetry Ambassador associate in 2007. She wrote a play entitled “Fix Me Jesus” in 2012 for Alabama 1st COGIC State AIM Youth Convention Competition drama category which was awarded second place. Currently, she is in rehearsals for her second stage play for the local playwright, Shawna D. Moore which will be on stage in August 2019. She is in the process of compiling a two-volume poetry book entitled My Poetic Life: A Memoir of Love and a book detailing her life with Fibromyalgia, entitled Behind the Walls of Silence. In July 2018, she created her first blog site My Poetic Life (The Book) as @vfurrmstheblogger to act as a launch for both books and it has taken on a life of its own. She also owns a small crochet business, Val's Gifts of Warmth, where she sells her handmade crochet items.

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3 CONVERSATIONS

    • Ken,
      Thank you for taking the time to read my article and responding to it. I write to vent sometimes especially when I lose someone. I usually can do it right after the loved one passes. But my brother this past March hit me hard for many reasons and I’m just now able to accept that he’s gone too. Such sorrow needs to be expressed.

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