Back in 1988 I was in Georgia working, but my family was still in Arkansas. Arkansas is actually where we were calling home. I got a letter one day from my wife telling me that my brother Lyle had cancer. I knew that when he was in the army he had to have a cancer removed from his lower lip, but they got it all. He hadn't been bothered by cancer in years and was in good health the last time I saw him. A few months earlier I couldn't tell that a thing was wrong with him by looking at him. He hadn't mentioned anything like that to anyone in the family, and I felt sure that if something like that was wrong he would have told me. We had always been best friends as well as brothers.

Still Carolyn, my wife said that if I wanted to spend very much time with him I better come home. She said that the doctors had only given him about two years to live. I definitely wanted to spend as much time with him as I possibly could, but I hated to quit my job and go home. I really didn't know what I was going to do. I was at a complete loss as to what to do. That didn't happen often--I usually didn't have any problem making up my mind what I wanted to do. Something happened at work that very night that helped me decide and by the end of that week I was back home in Arkansas.

I saw my brother on New Years Day 1989. I couldn't believe how he looked. It had been about six months since I saw him last, and already he had lost so much weight. We talked about when we were kids and things that had happened after growing up. I didn't want it to be true that he was really dying, but could no longer deny that he had cancer and that it was taking its toll on him. I decided to just talk about what he wanted to talk about.

We talked about an old friend that we grew up with our best friend when we were boys. All three of us were best friends then and still were now. They were both 45 years old, and I was 42 years old. Lyle, my brother never mentioned that he was dying. Since he didn't I didn't either, but we both knew and knew that the other knew. I suspected now that he might live a year to a year and one-half but didn't think he would make it a full two years like the doctors said he probably would.

A few months later Huston, our best friend was home and the two of us went to visit Lyle again. It wasn't the next time that I saw him, but it was the only time that the three of us got to be together after Lyle got cancer and was very special to us. We talked about everything from our childhood all the way to the present, but we all knew that things would never be the same again. We also knew that Lyle wouldn't be alive much longer, but none of us ever mentioned it while we were there.  Huston and I talked about it after we left to go home. We talked about Lyle not being bald after the Chemo. His hair had come back thick and kinky-curly. He had never had thick hair, but it had always been a little not curly but wavy and sandy colored. Now it was a deep red.

That was in the middle of the summer 1989, and in September or October of that year he died. I visited as often as I could talking only about what he chose and never once did he choose to talk about dying. He mostly wanted to talk about when we were boys with sometimes talking about his kids and mine. I suspect that dying makes a person want to reminisce about his or her childhood.

A number of years later around five or six--I can't remember for sure Huston and his family decided to move back to Arkansas.  We visited every chance we got, but he soon got sick.  As it turned out he was sick while living in Georgia.  It just hadn't showed up yet, but the tests showed that the disease had progressed so far that he would have to had it for a few years.  Before he knew that he was sick in GA too, he told me that if he had known he was going to get sick the first thing like that he never would have moved back.

As far as talking about dying, he never one time did to me anyway.  I feel sure that he talked about it with his wife.  Every time we visited we just sat and was happy being with each other or talked about when we were kids and the mischief Lyle, he and I got into, because we got into trouble together a lot.

I saw Huston go from a robust healthy looking man to a shell in what seemed like no time.  He had no energy and had to go on an oxygen tank just to breathe and stay alive, but still he never mentioned that he was dying; although, I knew and wanted to talk about it once again I chose to only talk about it if he wanted too like I did with Lyle.  Neither of them ever mentioned that they were dying, so we never talked about it.

I did tell Huston's cousin once that I thought he wouldn't be here by Christmas, because he looked just like Lyle did before he died.  Shelby asked was the same thing wrong with both of them.   I told him that it wasn't, but I just didn't see how he could keep going as bad as he looked.  Shelby didn't answer and never mentioned it again.  Christmas came and went, and Huston was still living, but I could tell he was getting weaker.  Then in early May he died.  He lived just under five and one-half months past Christmas Day.