I went to bed early tonight, but was woken by a call from my brother’s wife, Sondra. I’ve only met Sondra a couple of times. My brother and I have not been close in years. My brother, Michael Crowell, passed away today.
Michael was my little brother. As we grew, that phrase became comical, as he got much bigger than I, in both height and weight. We fought a lot, as brothers do, but mostly we just grew apart as we took very different paths in life.
His path led him to drugs and run-ins with the law. He had recently gone clean due to health issues, and his new wife, Sondra, pushing him to clean up his act.
The two of them were homeless recently, but were staying with her family in Rochester Indiana. I had no idea he was even in the area.
He had a seizure, and never came out of it. Sondra called me, obviously shaken. She doesn’t know how to handle the arrangements, neither do I. As I write this, his body is in a hospital in Rochester. I hope his spirit, soul, or whatever it is that makes us human is at peace.