The pastor looked at us expectantly waiting for a reply… “How would you describe Eric?”
Mom and I both stared back at him across the table. No immediate words came to either of us and we hoped the other would find a way to explain who Eric was. It was a hard question with no easy answers. But why? Why was it so hard to describe this person who on the outside seemed so simple and straight forward but really was so complex. We only knew the Eric he wanted us to know. And that’s the way he liked it.
Eric was born in the mid 60s during a time of social unrest and questionable fashion. His childhood was easy up until a point, living as the only child to a middle school teacher and a medical technologist in a smallish Kansas town. They lived on a country dirt road away from the typical childhood neighborhoods with bikes and pick up basketball games. He enjoyed this isolation though. He was a quiet kid who didn’t crave constant human interaction. He enjoyed playing by himself as a child and was often solitary in his room. At the age of 5 he became ill and was frequently hospitalized with pneumonia and eventually diagnosed with asthma. But this wasn’t your garden variety asthma, it was pretty severe and required specialists and multiple medications to keep it under control. This made him miss a lot of school those first few years of elementary school and probably affected this initial bonds with kids in his class. Again he found he was happy alone and never complained.
When he was 7 ½ I came along. At first he might have been excited for the little sister. He even had the privilege of naming me. I was supposed to be Elizabeth but he couldn’t pronounce it. Kelli was a popular name in the 70s and Eric had a Kelly as a classmate that he liked. That was the name he wanted so that’s what I became. Mom and Dad changed the spelling in order to differentiate me from other Kelly’s and to give it that feminine twist. But the newness and excitement of a little sister soon wore off and he realized that he preferred being alone versus having to now devote his playtime to another person.
That’s not to say we didn’t play together. I remember this early days of matchbox cars and racetracks set up all over the house. GI Joes and Jeep’s and helicopters on adventure after adventure. And his army men and football players...I loved all his toys. But as I grew older so did he. Once I introduced Barbie to Joe, Eric’s playing days were over.
We would be home alone together those long, blissful summer days while mom and dad worked. I remember standing at his closed bedroom door (Anna at Elsa’s door asking - Do you Want To Build a Snowman - bring tears to my eyes) begging him to play with me like he used to. One day he did agree to play…”Cops and robbers?” He asked. “Yes, yes” was my giddy reply.
Ten minutes later he had captured me and tied me to a chair, retreating once again to his room. Winning the game and laughing under his breath. He had outsmarted me.
I was the annoying little precocious sister who just craved his attention. If there could be a total opposite to his personality it was mine. I loved people and companionship. I wanted and craved playmates. I was curious and nosy and always really knew what he was up to behind those closed doors. Music, reading, thinking, sleeping...he was content in his isolation. I was not.
I found neighborhood playmates and would disappear for entire days. Eric was supposed to be watching me but he was absorbed in his own life. I was independent and on my own to find my own entertainment.
The bus that picked us up for school was the bus for the country, farm kids and was full of children grades kindergarten through 12th grade. That meant Eric and I rode the same bus all the way up until he had his own car (then he got to drive me to school). It was on the bus that I saw another side of him. He HAD friends! And A LOT of them. When I was the littlest kid on the bus he was in middle school and would sit at the back with the high schoolers. Some of these kids were trouble makers and there was one time Eric was suspended from the bus along with them for being disruptive, writing on seats, who knows what else. These were also the kids that helped him get his first fake ID at 13 years old and that introduced him to drinking and partying and the social scene. This is what also led to me discovering empty beer cans hidden in the vents of his room and in his toybox. Again remember I was the nosy one? I was the one that always had some kind of instinct with what was going on with him. This is what led to fights with our parents. I remember one day sitting down to dinner and hearing the sound of his suitcase rattling and announced to mom and dad, Eric is running away. Dad stared at me and ran to his room and found that he had cut a hole in his screen, pushed his suitcase out and was ready to head across the front lawn to where someone was waiting for him. He did not make it far!
That social side of Eric was one that he didn’t share with us. We saw the quiet, respectful and sweet good-natured kid that he was. That was also the side that his teachers saw. He was a good student. Always very quiet and kind to everyone, got good grades. But he liked his social scene. As he aged through high school he loved heavy-metal rock concerts like Led Zepplin, Lynard Skynard, Pink Floyd... that’s where he spent his money. He drove 1976 Monte Carlo with a big white stripe down the side blasting that heavy metal music when he would drive me to school. The passenger door wouldn’t close easily and he would scream at me every day when he would drop me off. “SLAM HARD!” Me the little frizzy haired 10 year old would try my best but to no avail. He would grumble and groan and have to get out and walk around closing it for me. That car was very recognizable in town. Which was good and bad. His friends always knew where he was but so did the cops! He eventually traded it in for a 1984 Pontiac Firebird. Not as recognized but still cool. He was a kid of the 80s! Feathered hair, concert T-shirts and big belt buckles.
We took a road trip to California in 1983 the year before his senior year of high school. I was 10 years old. I loved every minute of that trip. I love the family time. He and I would sit in the backseat together and I would pester him. Often he would call out, “make her stop touching me! Tell her to leave me alone!” I would giggle to myself and just keep it up. He would put on his big heavy yellow headphones, put his pillow over his face and sink into the door. Dad would play Johnny Cash and one of my favorites, “The Mississippi Squirrel Revival” and the three of us would sing at the top of our lungs while Eric pulled the pillow tighter over his head. but I remember in that trip the souvenir he wanted the most was a Navajo handmade belt buckle. We found the perfect one in a roadside stand in New Mexico. And one of his favorite pictures of him smiling ear to ear was holding that belt buckle along side a man from the Navajo nation who created it. He wore that thing every day. It was rare to get a smile in a picture so this is one that we will all cherish.
I also remember the days at dinner table when I would chatter on endlessly about my day at school and he would glower at me and say does she ever shut up? Then mom and dad would ask him Eric how was your day? “Fine“ was the simple answer. But I remember his favorite meals. He loved fondue night, dipping the meat in the sizzling oil. That was a meal he would never miss. Mom eventually handed down her fondue pot to him once he had his own place.. He loved grilling steaks And baked potatoes. He never missed watching a Chiefs game or a Royals game or a KU basketball game with Dad and then later with Alex.
His senior year of high school was marred again with illness. His annoying pesky little sister brought home the chickenpox to him. He never got the chickenpox when he was in elementary school because he had been in the hospital with pneumonia when it went around his classroom. So lucky him he got it as a senior in high school. And he got it bad! He ended up missing six weeks of his senior year because the chickenpox then developed into mononucleosis and he was so sick. I felt terrible. I also remember him having to make a few phone calls when he got mono because of girls he had potentially infected. I eavesdropped and thought this was great! Again quiet Eric with that we know nothing about his friends or his social life had girlfriends! Who knew?
I remember a time that we went to visit my grandmother in Washington, Kansas and left Eric home alone. We came home and I immediately knew something was off. My parents were oblivious. But I pulled back the covers to my bed and found crushed chips. I ran out and reported immediately, “Eric had a party! There’s chips in my bed!” Sure enough. With further investigation we found out that he had a rip roaring party while we were gone that he mostly successfully cleaned up after, but unfortunately in his cleaning he did not realize someone was eating chips in my bed. I looked back and I have to apologize. I’m sorry Eric that I wasn’t a cooler little sister that didn’t tattle on you.
Off to college he went where he had a very large group of friends that we never really knew. We would occasionally hear stories about his adventures. Along the way he obtained the nickname Dude...Everyone that would see him that was friends with him would shout Dude! and high 5 him. His family was left to wonder what did he do to get this nickname and why is it so epic? He would come home for holidays answer minimal questions and be quiet and head back to school. He had two different personalities. Two different lives. In five years he graduated with 2 degrees one in business and one in political science. After college he moved back home for a while and I remember him bringing girls to the house when he thought no one would be around. But he never really told us about his girlfriends. Until Joni at least.
Eric was working for AT&T.. He was a customer service rep but again he didn’t really talk much about his job. But he met Joni during this time as she was working for the rival Sprint. He told us about her. We knew this was different. They got married. And a few years later had little Alex. They had a cute little family. They had good times and bad times as everyone does. His daily drinks became an issue after he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer and was in the hospital in Arizona. That’s when the tides shifted for him. Soon after that hospitalization he and Joni did split. But that’s not my story to tell. He lived on his own and was a weekend dad to Alex. But no matter what he loved that kid. He was a great dad. They enjoyed their Mystery Science Theater DVDs and their boardgames. Alex can tell many more memories that we just will never know.
During these years after the divorce, he for the first time became active on Facebook. This provided some insight into how his usually quiet mind worked. He was funny, intelligent and very informed about what was going on in the world. Always tending to be on the conservative side of things he didn’t let that bias sway him and could always see things for what they were. He would be the first call out a conservative for saying something stupid. Oh how he loved posting some of Trump’s off the wall statements. Then he would be accused of being a liberal and I could hear him laughing to himself. He loved The Onion and sarcasm And especially loved it when people tried to argue with him after these posts. I could hear him chuckling at how stupid they sounded. He was always sharing articles of ridiculous crimes and extremely crazy behavior of criminals.
One of my favorite quotes he shared was “Learn to be okay with people not knowing your side of the story. You have nothing to prove to anyone.” Fits him perfectly. And then there was, “People are not shaking hands because of coronavirus. I’m not shaking hands because everyone is out of toilet paper.” I love scrolling through his Facebook page. His voice, his humor, his thoughts are still there.
I admired my brother. I admired the mystery surrounding who he was. I always craved to know him better, to know what was going on in that head. But we knew what he wanted us to know. And he lived his life the way he wanted to with no apologies and no wish to prove anything to anyone. He was simple. He was complex. So when Pastor Tim asked “Who was Eric?”
This is who he was. He was admired by his little sister. The sister who is sorry for being annoying and turning him in. Who wishes they had more time in their older years to share and reminisce. Who will miss him being there...a presence in her life as the guy who would always keep her guessing. He was a loving, kind, caring dad who would put his son first before anyone. Who passed down his love of learning and understanding the world as around them with an air of intelligence and humor. Alex gets it. Alex too is quiet like his dad. Probably smarter than you or I, with no apologies and no desire to prove anything.
Eric you will be missed. You were loved and respected and admired more than you know. I’m sorry I didn’t say that sooner. And I am truly sorry for not being cool…
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