Corey's Eulogy

I used to love to tell my brother jokes. His face impassive as I wound the anticipation of the joke slowly, paying strict attention with a blank face showing the movement behind his eyes; he truly knew how to make you feel like you were being listened to. And then the punch line. And then the response. Like an eruption his smile would spread across his face, eyes squinting into small slits of approval. The vein in the middle of his forehead would bulge as he laughed, heartily, rewarding me with tears at the corners of his eyes. It's was these moments that made me the most happy. I used to love to tell my brother jokes. I used to love to argue with Tyler. It didn't really matter what; Dishes, automobiles, N64.. The subject was of little importance as long as Tyler and I were willing to square off in the gauntlet to prove, once again, that we were the headstrong Steen's we thought we were. I remember so vividly a night after dinner that Tyler just refused to do the dishes. He had been at college for his first semester, and apparently after returning he deemed the menial chore too simple for the magnitude of his education. He simply refused. And I was furious. I remember the dance we danced, from room to room, playful smile displayed on his face as he ducked from living room to dining room to kitchen trying to avoid my teenaged angst. That was always his style.. He could stop traffic with that smile. And with that same smile he could convince everyone in their cars that driving wasn't important right now, and woo the female police officer trying to arrest him. Simply amazing. Though it may seem petty to you, I forgive my brother for that night. I cherish that night. I hold onto that night. I do the dishes alone now. To be honest, what I'm reading you right now was hastily written the night before. Tyler would be proud of the way I procrastinated. It's hard to describe thinking about your brother's life, not to reminisce or reflect, but to share at his funeral. Words really don't do him justice. Words can't bring back the laugh that I crave, that I need as I sit in my self constructed gallows of despair. I can't call words up at 2:30 in the morning, randomly, without any sort of plan and have a reassuring voice pick up on the other line willing to offer endless amounts of comfort and wisdom. Words are nothing next to Tyler. They will never fill the void. He's gone. But I survive. Intact, I am a vessel of Tyler's life, filled with memories and feelings and knowledge of who my brother really was. He was the young boy who was such a great friend to his younger brother. He was that boy who built a big old box in the backyard for him and his friends. He was that teenager who drove me from place to place, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to ensure my father wouldn't discover my immoralities. He was that man in the Rhode Island sunshine, hair flipped back, shirt unbuttoned, beer in hand, who I could look at and honestly say I was proud. I am proud. My brother was an exceptional human being who touched lives without meaning too, and I can only hope to live up to his legacy of love. You know, one night sitting around the dinner table Tyler told me something that stuck with me my entire life. "You meet the same people everywhere you go" he said, and for awhile I didn't understand. Age brought wisdom, however, and I liked to think I was mature because I now understood what he meant. But now I see that he was wrong. At least, he was the exception to his own rule. There will never be another like you Tyler. You were truly a unique individual who enriched my life by the metaphorical trillions and made me, forced me, to be a better person. You were my brother. You are my brother. I will always be your "little man". I love you Tyler.

"What we have enjoyed
we can never lose ...
All that we love deeply
becomes a part of us"
--- Helen Keller  

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