I HAVE an unbelievable family. Not had, HAVE. Believe it or not, I am going to write about something other than grief. I am going to write about my amazing family, and in this particular blog, my brother Casey.
A few minutes ago, I got a text from a friend, saying how nice my family was to him during Chris’s memorial. I believe his exact words were “Your whole family was just a rock.” Yes sir. That’s what Forsythes do. We may be assholes. We may fight and act like idiots and stink up the place, but we always stick together.
Last night, my girlfriend told me that my youngest brother, Casey, had spoken with her. He wanted to make sure I was doing ok. This kid. He has always been the baby, and most of his life, we’ve treated him like one. But he has stepped up during this horrible time, and shown us he is a man.
Casey. Oh my sweet baby boy! I know that sounds silly. But Casey is the only one of my siblings that I remember as a baby. After he was born and came home from the hospital, I was just inseparable from him. I wanted to rock him and hold him and give him his bottles. I gave Kellen his middle name because Casey was the person who made me fall in love with babies. He is so hilarious and light hearted. It’s impossible to be around him and not be laughing. I can only hope that Kellen inherits these traits.
One of the coolest things about Casey is that he goes all out when it comes to Halloween costumes. Being that I am eight years older than he is, I did not spend as much time with Casey growing up. What high school dude wants to hang out with his square older sister? Once we were both adults, it was easier to find common ground. Back then, I had a group of friends that threw these huge Halloween parties. Casey had multiple gatherings to attend, of course, but he’d always stop to hang out for a bit. Every time, he’d put together a full blown kick ass costume that was on point- Alex from A Clockwork Orange, Tommy Chong, Ali G. I wish I had pictures.
For a brief time, I had a tiny apartment inside of an old Victorian house. I had this miniscule room that I dedicated to smoking pot, listening to records, and drawing on the walls. Most people came over and doodled silly and strange cartoons. But Casey crafted this unbelievably detailed mushroom. How had I missed it? Casey could draw! This thing, this thing that I loved- Casey did it too! Of course, being a child of a much younger generation, he didn’t know how to flip and play a record- but I set him straight.
Of course, like any true Forsythe, Casey can get down when it comes to partying. One of my all time favorite party memories is a night that involved 3D cartoons, letting boys out of the car to run as if they were puppies, ordering about twenty milkshakes, and staring at towels. I could go into it, but it would probably make me look bad, and its really one of those stories that you had to be there. But HE WAS there- we lived it and we still laugh about it to this day.
It’s kind of strange. Just now, thinking and writing it out, I realize how many memories I have of Casey, just Casey. Chris and Casey lived together for so long, and I always saw them together when I visited home. They became these sort of twisted long haired dopplegangers in my mind. But Casey and I have our own connection, and it feels good to be reminded of that.
Tonight, Casey was again trying to comfort me. He’s the one who’s been looking out for the family. He wrote me and said “write something every five minutes if you have to.” Those words- thank you. I didn’t have one amazing brother. I have four. Who is fortunate enough to say that? I have four brothers. Three who are still living and would do anything I asked to make me happy.
Last week, Casey introduced me to his closest friends. They call themselves the four horsemen. Today, I was asking him about these men, how he met them, what their connection was. Over the course of the conversation, Casey told me they are all coroners. It probably shouldn’t have, but it made me laugh. Coroners. I could potentially spend an evening hanging out with a gang of coroners. If there is one thing for certain, the legacy of strange “this one time” stories is in good hands.
I love you, Casey.