Everybody Calls Me Jana Banana: How can you explain a miracle?

This week my eldest brother Butch drew closer to leave his earthly body, and my mother and sister stayed by his side. They told me not to rush and to remember our visit in July, “You don’t want to remember him like this.“

These 1,000 miles are so far, yet my loved ones are in every beat of my heart and every breath in my lungs. The love of family transcends time and space, and we can close our eyes and feel them close.

I had to make peace that when I arrived it would most likely be too late to kiss my brother’s cheek, hold his hand or hug my Mom when he left us. This cancer that shortened his life also gave him the gift to say goodbye.

My brother taught me to truly LIVE. He moved around, tried different jobs and traveled from Maine to California and points in between. He got into trouble and got out of it again. He lived a hard life, and he spent the last 20 years more settled than he’d ever been.

He made a home in the Belfast area of Maine and loved the islands and the beauty of that area. He still thought of Bath and Phippsburg as home. Certainly, like the rest of our family, he felt that the Alliquippa Harbor was a sort of sanctuary that comes from having the last name Pye. Lobster-fishing was in our heritage, and, although our siblings never did more than do it as amateurs, we all loved the spray of the salt water and the beauty that the ocean exudes.

Butch made his living these past years as a house painter. He even painted actress Kirstie Alley’s house, and she brought him a glass of lemonade. He was meticulous and especially good at certain interior painting techniques and rich “summer people” asked for him by name. It was his craft, and he was truly an artist.

He could always sketch well too but never got the accolades our brother Dwight got for his drawings and watercolors. Butch would just humbly shrug his shoulders and grin when he got a compliment.

His life was not always easy. His wild-child ways, like his wanderlust to travel, was tamed in later years.

His lungs were weakened by the materials he used in his job and the cigarette habit he had had since a teen. The last ten years, he’d been careful what he put into his body and loved to tell you about the natural remedies he used to keep up his health.

It was to no avail to combat strong cancer cells. To have been diagnosed with cancer in mid July and be at the edge of his last hours now in October was hard for him.

He told me on my visit the end of July that, “If it’s the last thing I’ll do, I’ll go to the Alliquippa.“

We were afraid that may not happen, so the kids and I took the camera and took as many photos as we could to let him feel that he was there. It wasn’t the same, but it was all we could do.

Butch is the blonde-haired, blue-eyed big brother of my childhood, the one that moved around a lot, and I never really got to know until I was older. He knew the constellations, knew each rock, tree and plant and prayed in the forest. To him, nature is God, and God is nature.

Our sister Pammy’s daughter Maggie has the distinct honor of bringing the first great-grand niece to my brothers and me, and we have been so excited for this baby.

Each day, Butch asked for updates and was happy to know she was a girl.

“She’ll be beautiful,” he told Pammy often.

On Tuesday, my Mom called me throughout the day. Butch’s breathing was labored, and he was taking nothing by mouth. On a later update, he was peaceful. Then, she called to tell me that Maggie had headed to the hospital.

The rest of the day, there were calls on two updates, on my brother and sweet Maggie. Pammy left to be with her family, but Mom was not alone. Many of Butch’s friends came by, and my cousin Tommy was there the last time we spoke.

Life is extraordinary, and there are some events that mere words cannot describe.

In the space of ten minutes, a beautiful 9 lb, 11 oz baby girl named Brooklynn was born into the world. Minutes later, her Great-Uncle Butch looked into the eyes of his mother, tried to tell her something and passed away peacefully.

Butch is now on an adventure, the new world where our souls go when we die. I imagine Heaven for Butch has a rocky harbor, sunshine and our Dad waiting on a boat to take him fishing.

Our family will love this precious new baby, and we’ll always remember with a catch in our heart how she illuminated the circle of life for us and reminded us that God gives us blessings just when we need them most.

When you read this column, I will be at home for my brother’s funeral and spending the afternoon waiting for my turn to hold Brooklynn. Thank you to my friends near and far for your kind wishes, and may you all find time to embrace the wonder and blessings of your own life.