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| Left to right Joseph Albert Irvin, Cecil Irvin, infant Larry Irvin, his father Grayson Irvin (seated) Willis Irvin ... Five Generations |
My Brother,
Larry Marvin Irvin
February 21, 1941–November 24, 2014
(a tribute by
the spoiled brat little sister,
born when he was ten years old)
My earliest memory of my brother, Larry, involves
two incidents at 1426 Lake Avenue in E. St. Louis, Illinois, the house we lived
in when I (the “caboose”) arrived. First, the aftermath of falling off the
crossbar when he was giving me a ride on his bike and my throwing up something
red (concussion?) and everyone freaking out until they realized I’d had red soda (we called
it “soda”) to drink ; the other, his bringing home a banana spider from the
grocery store where he worked and releasing it in our back yard. The critter
was little more than a curiosity to a teenage boy. To this little sister who
had a fear of spiders broaching on arachnophobia, it meant being very careful whenever I went out to play
on the swing set near the propane tank in the back yard.
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| Big brothers Larry & David Mother looking on Stephanie trying to escape |
I
remember visiting him when he was working for a funeral home in the Chicago
area. They had aquariums built in the wall of the visitation room and two identical
doors … one leading to Larry’s apartment and the other into the “business part”
of the funeral home. I couldn’t remember which was which.
I
remember his kindness when I got sick right before his 1963 wedding. I thought
I was better, but I couldn’t even make it through the service and felt so humiliated when I had to be helped
off the altar. Both he and his bride were more worried about me than about a
“ruined” wedding. Such unselfish love. Which pretty much characterizes my
memories of my brother.
In
all the adventures and misadventures of my life, I always knew that if I ever
needed him, Larry would come running, no matter what it took. In 2001, when my
first husband was dying, Larry drove ten hours to my home town, first to spend
time with the brother-in-law he loved, and second to accompany me to interview
several funeral homes about the impending services. He was a silent encourager
and a knowledgeable presence, giving of his life’s work in a time when I needed
guidance. When my husband died, Larry came at a moment’s notice, quietly and
confidently assisting the local funeral director as both a consummate professional and a beloved brother
and brother-in-law. Again, he modeled unselfish love.
When
I re-married, Larry took the time to drive to Kansas City, pick up our brother,
David, and come to the wedding. They both gave a big chunk of their lives to
that special day for me. Again, putting me first.
When
I wrote a book about “how to help a grieving friend,” Larry endorsed it. He
never failed to be a cheerleader for my writing life.
He
never once forgot a birthday. He wrote personal message in the cards that he
sent, and I cherish them to this day. He wrote a tender letter to my children
and me on the first anniversary of my husband and their father’s death. Another
cherished testimony to his loving concern.
Just
today, I pulled out and re-read some of those sweet wishes. One ends with a
rhyme I will co-opt for this day, as Larry has entered eternity and I remain on
earth:
… and even though we have to be apart,
please understand that you mean more
than ever,
And I’ll be right beside you in my
heart.
