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brian and his dog

My brother Brian Clemens Bowers, seen here with his dog Fluster, died peacefully of natural causes last Monday. Here is the obituary I wrote for him, with help from my family:

Brian Bowers, 61, crossed the finish line of his life’s journey peacefully in his home in Phoenix, Arizona on August 6, 2018.

Brian gave of himself generously, with no thought of reward, throughout his life. Street people were his sisters and brothers. And he was a vagabond Santa Claus to his many nieces and nephews, despite being dirt-poor, because he tirelessly searched in thrift stores, swap meets and yard sales for the perfect gift for each individual.

He was also an outstanding caregiver, first for his grandfather “Papa” during the last four months of Papa’s life in 1987, and more recently for his mother Jane Bowers Stoneman, from the time of her husband Marty’s death in 2014 up to the very week that Brian died. He performed numberless household and yard chores, and 24/7 caregiving, for Jane, despite his own medical issues, which included severe back trouble, liver problems, and two major cancer surgeries.

Brian loved music, and in his handwritten Last Will and Testament directed his mother to take her pick of his many CDs and concert DVDs and then offer them to his nieces and nephews. He also expressed hope that none of his other possessions, including the food on his shelves and in his refrigerator, would go to waste.

Brian’s life’s journey led him to a stint at UPS; a glorious championship season as a Little League coach; an all-too-brief yet joyous marriage to Lira, the love of his life, who died tragically young; at least two years of homelessness due to hard drug use; a stay at Joe Arpaio’s Tent City; and then the triumph of becoming clean and sober with the great and gracious help of faith-based Streets of Joy and Victory Outreach. In Brian’s final years he became a committed member of Faith Assembly of God. Christianity became his salvation.

Brian met the enormous challenges of his circumstances with great courage, immense love in his heart, and an unquenchable sense of fun. Those who survive him include his mother, Jane Bowers Stoneman; brothers Harold and Gary; stepbrothers Cary, Dan, Tod, and Glenn Stoneman; his beloved Aunt Diane; and a host of nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends. He leaves these loved ones with a fine set of remembrances of his love.

Here is Brian’s handwritten Last Will and Testament:

brian last will

Here is the transcript, mildly edited by his loving and grieving brother:

Last Will and Testament, November 24, 2012

I, Brian Bowers, being of sound mind, body, and spirit, do hereby appoint my mother Jane Bowers Stoneman to receive everything I own. One 1979 Datsun 260Z; one 1987 Nissan Pulsar NX SE; everything in the back house at [address] as well as everything I may own in the storage sheds and cabinets.

My wish is that she would direct the distribution of my assets; allow each of my nieces and nephew, one at a time, to choose any of my CDs and concert DVDs that they may want (of course, that’s after Mom takes what she wants); then allow blood kin to choose anything as remembrance or enjoyment. My Mother is in charge of any distribution of anything. I would hope that any of my food not go to waste.

My computer and TVs may be given or kept by my mother.

I would hope my brothers would get something as well.

Thanks

signed Brian C. Bowers
November 24, 2012

Here is an array of medications Brian kept at his bedside:

brian pills

Finally, here is a poem I wrote this morning, meant to go with the above image:

no refills

1

let’s check you out

your lumbar grinds
you tend to seize
your bp is up there

you had this operation
so you need this this and this
and that procedure
so here is that and that

and now you have side effects
so here’s this for logy
that for grouchy
and the other just because you hurt

take them once and twice and thrice a day
with and without food

diet? exercise?
not our department

2

let’s check you out

you are calm–good
zero chance of seizure–excellent
no pain whatsoever–truly fine

and non-instruments detect
waves and waves of love
washing over you and through you

your reward awaits

you won’t be needing these any more

IMG_20160430_060249

playing jacks with laura
To Laura J Young

there was a girl
about two years older than my sevenandahalf,
and her name was laura
and she taught me how to play jacks.

she used a golf ball, which was good, because
it had more bounce and truer bounce
than that red ball with a seam.

laura was always better than me,
always getting up to her tens
while i was still on my fives or so,
and then she’d get through piginapen
or doublebounce
while i was only up to my nines or so.

we also played chutes&ladders
or candyland
out of the charity of her kind soul,
for she had long outgrown those games.

she had a spool with four nails pounded partway
into one end, the nailheads forming a square,
and she could make an endless snake
of yarn or twine
come out of the other end
just by a kind of weaving.
i thought it was neat.
she taught me how to do it too.

our dads got mad at each other over something.
it might have been the mulberries our tree shed
in their yard,
which were sweetly yummy but awfully stainy,
or it might have been the way our dog liked to pee
on their pyracantha,
or maybe that we were supposed to be the first ones
to swim in the swimming pool we helped dig
and we ended up never swimming there at all.

it only matters because after that
laura and i never played any more.

more than fifty-one years later
i saw her name as a friend of a facebook friend,
another neighbor,
and now we’re friends again
though many miles apart.

she is a shepherd and a yarnwright
and a champion of the environment.
i find that delightful.

i will probably never see her again
since she lives in one of the carolinas,
but i do hope there is something to
the lifeflashingbeforeyoureyes notion,
because i would so love, however briefly,
to go back to
playing jacks with laura.