My older brother Todd passed away just a couple days ago after a long battle with cancer. Todd's family continues with his beautiful wife Cindy and their five children. I did a Google search for Todd Romrell and didn't find anything about my brother. In one sense, I think that's a nice tribute to Todd's quiet and unassuming family life. In another sense, it's a shame that more people won't know or don't know about his best qualities.This will come as a shock to those who know me, but I didn't always get along with my brother. He was the oldest and the favorite (birth order seems to be an advantage in patriarchal families). He was the jock, the "peacemaker" and the religious exemplar.
For me, as the second born son, I happen to be a bit more confrontational and outspoken. I wasn't given as much attention, love, affection or praise, so I became more competitive and demanding. (As an aside, a great little article on second-born personality traits can be found here.)
I guess our personality differences might explain why, for example, I popped Todd in the face after my dad insisted that we stop fighting during a family road trip. It wasn't my fault...OK, yes it was. But that doesn't explain why he rammed my head through the wall during another fight. Yes, we fought just as much as any brothers, but that wasn't because we didn't love each other.
Two of my fondest childhood memories involve Todd. When we were both feeling a bit sentimental, we used to laugh about these two events in particular.
The first (in reverse chronological order) was when we were young teenagers spending some wonderful time at my grandparents' cabin in Island Park, Idaho. We loved to spend time tearing through the dirt roads on high-pitched little "yamahoppers". We'd explore as much area as those little gas tanks could handle. And on occasion, we'd race back to the cabin like motocross superstars!
Today was my day, I thought, as I rounded another dusty tree-lined corner ahead of my brother, knowing that just a few turns ahead was VICTORY! I laid on the gas and pushed that little engine as hard as I could. I could barely hear Todd's engine behind me as the air rushed past my ears. I was kicking up a cloud of dust as I flew through those corners. The dust was to my advantage as it blinded my opponent if he got too close.
As I rounded one of the last corners before reaching the finish line, the little motorbike jumped out from under me. I hit the dirt hard, but my helmetless head was spared a crushing blow. I could feel some road rash as a slid to a dust-covered painful stop. And then I heard Todd's engine at full throttle rounding the corner...I knew what was about to happen but I couldn't prevent it. As I lay there in the middle of the road, Todd flew around the corner and ran right over my outstretched legs.
I used to joke with Todd about aiming for my legs. It was payback, I teased him, for all the times I beat him at other sports (the irony, of course, being that he was a great all-around athlete). Come to think of it, he never denied running over me on purpose (smile).
He didn't finish the race. Instead he hopped off his motorbike and helped me limp all the way back to the cabin. My leg was broken (much to the dismay of my father, who insisted it was only a sprain) and I had to finish that summer in an itchy plaster cast. Yes, Todd helped me back to the cabin instead of leaving me stranded. But don't forget, he's the one who aimed for and broke my leg in the first place! (haha).
The second of my fond childhood memories was when I almost died. We were staying in a motel in Salt Lake City playing in the outdoor swimming pool. Todd and a few other boys were showing off, diving from the edge of the pool and having all sorts of fun. I figured it was my turn for the spotlight, so I stood backwards on the concrete edge of that motel swimming pool and announced my intention to do a picture-perfect back dive!
I pushed my little body into the air as high as my skinny legs could launch me. I rotated upside down preparing to pierce the water like an arrow. And then I crashed head first into the side of the pool, succumbing to gravity as well as the immovable hardness of the concrete edge. I sunk to the bottom of the pool unconscious and with a fractured skull. And that's when my brother pulled me to the surface and to safety.
We used to joke about how he "saved my life". I wish I could have returned the favor in his later years.
When Todd left for his mission to Japan I didn't give him an emotional goodbye. I honestly don't even remember if I woke up to see him off. But as soon as he was gone, I sobbed for hours. I was a cocky, competitive 17 year old and he was a pain in the butt...but I missed him terribly when he left. I still can recall the emptiness in my heart when he went away, knowing that it would be 2-3 years until I saw him again. I feel that same way today, only now it will be much longer before we can share another laugh together or reminisce over our childhood antics.
Todd's cancer was painful. I have no idea how much it hurt him, both physically and emotionally. I can only imagine what it was like to know for so many years that his days were numbered. He maintained a healthy, friendly, even loving attitude with everyone. He didn't complain excessively about his excruciating pain, and he didn't drug himself into oblivion. I admire how he wanted to be lucid and enjoy every last minute with his wife and kids, even if that meant nearly unbearable pain.
Todd's children are fortunate to see and feel his love. Todd and I didn't always agree on things, but I admire Todd for his peaceful nature and his commitment to family and religion. Todd was a great man in a lot of ways. He has a very kind spirit (for this lives on) and an exceptionally strong sense of family. To say that he had a strong heart would be an understatement, both literally and figuratively. His heart kept his earthly body alive far longer than medical science predicted. And his heart (soul, spirit, whatever you want to call it) will continue through his family as they (and as we) remember the time we spent with this wonderful man.
Todd, I am pleased to call you my brother. I'm sorry you're gone. I and so many others miss you already.
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