My little brother’s Eulogy. For Bo!

[DeCav]

Bo Stubbs Eulogy (Brother)
I first broached the offer to Mr. Plemmoms to preside over this service by sending out a group text to his children and grandchildren that read...
“Do you remember when William agreed to marry my ex-girlfriend to a man who wasn’t me?” “Yes.” , Kelly Plemmons answered.
“Could I ask one more favor of him?”
I’ll acknowledge my brother Jud and my best friend Matt who agree unanimously that I badly need an editor. I’ll also acknowledge Ruben Chico was once responded about a post I wrote on a football message board...
“My God...and I thought Ayn Rand needed an editor!”
So I apologize for the length but when bo passed and I said meekly, “I suppose I’ll write the eulogy?”, actually asking does anyone else want to take this one on?
Jud didn’t hesitate. He just said, “Yep you’re the eulogy writer in the family.” So blame him. He knew approximately what he was signing up for.
I must confess I always wondered what it would be like to write and deliver a eulogy about someone with which you were at odds with for most of your life. It’s no secret to many people here that Bo and I grew apart early in life. Our family just started naturally breaking apart. Pete moved out to be with Starr and soon after Jud left for college then to California to chase his destiny. And mom and dad split up and it was my Mother taking me and Bo and moving the three of us into an apartment.
As the core unit shrunk and shrunk the bond Bo and I shared growing up became more and more untenable and increasingly unstable. It could be a twist on a normally numinous explanation such as, “The whole may sometimes be greater than the sum of it’s parts but all things being relative (pardon the pun), when it’s number of parts are reduced or broken up it follows logically that the whole can be expected to be reduced or at least it’s own individual parts may sense a reduction.”
“It’s”, referring to the family unit and the word “whole” referring to the subjective, qualitative, and unquantifiable quality of the measure of the love and oneness each member has for each other.

In trying to decide how to organize my thoughts and where to really begin, it may not be chronologically intuitive but it makes sense to wonder if I’m the person to deliver Bo’s eulogy. It’s the truth that my own family members wonder this also. It’s true that my friends have questioned me. Last night with Lloyd and Jason I could tell Jason was on edge about me writing a eulogy about Bo. People I worked with shared doubt and skepticism and the unspoken message was, “this might be a bad idea...oh no Mark has pent up so much for the last 35 years and now he has everyone’s ear....is he just going to drop a grenade???”
I asked Lisa....Happy Birthday....how I should approach it. Should I make it light and fluffy? Should I just only mention the good....and leave off the bad? Or should I keep it real?
She said, “Just tell his story....just tell the truth.”
When Bo passed in his hospital room, it was as graceful a death as a person could have. Bo and I spoke a few words that carried little weight and then I was off to pick up my dad. Before I left I facetimed with Pete and Pete and Bo spoke for the last time.
Pete gave a greeting. Bo said, “I’m dying.”
Pete said hang in there little brother because really the doctor who’d just operated on him explained to everyone that he’d done everything he could do but it might be 24 hours at the most. What could Pete say or do through a smartphone that the doctor couldn’t do.
And really I think it was the perfect thing to say. It was a go to for Pete always. I can’t count the times Pete’s told me, “Hang in there little brother.” It was always Pete’s way of saying I Love You and I’ll do whatever you need when you need it. I have to imagine that it comforted Bo because it always comforted me when I was taking a hard, long, and sharp corner in life and I was fighting to keep the rubber on the road. And it comforted me personally when he said it to Bo. I know he said it to Bo but it was received by the both of us.
Probably while I was picking up my father and before Bo’s final dose of pain medicine put him to sleep for the rest of the night, it would have been my best chance to have a more profound experience with Bo and forgive him one last time and tell him I love him and tell him goodbye.
Bo seemed coherent enough and driven during my absence to make amends as best as he could. I wasn’t there but I was told by Bo’s son Stephen Zachary that he was sitting on the edge of Bo’s bed when Bo asked him to come to the bed. After an exchange explaining to Bo that his son was already there he then asked for Kayla, Zack’s wife to come over also.
As I was told Bo then whispered, “I’m sorry I was an asshole.” Other things of note about that day and night...

Having gotten our father to the hospital right away when we were sure how imminent things were, we had the rest of the day to talk and share stories mostly about Bo but not all of them. I hope he was listening. It’s how I’d want to pass. Just having the people around me who loved me process my departure before the bus has pulled out of the station.
My Dad called his brother, my uncle Kenny and they spoke on the phone which was as far as anyone else knows something that should’ve happened much sooner. I don’t know but the call went well and I was lifted just listening to only the one side of the conversation and another piece of my heart was put back into place and another small cog in the machine containing a million tiny little parts that is the comfort I get from being in my family was put back into place. It that seems selfish then I will plead guilty.
My mother’s cousin walked into the room unexpected, Tonya Smith. She’d been following on Facebook...had been texting me to find out where we were. She finally just went to SMR and asked for Bo Stubbs. She stayed all night with us.
I guess it shouldn’t have been all that unexpected but I was surprised all the same when Kim and DJ Plemmons also opened the door and walked in unannounced followed shortly by Tom Plemmons who played football with my brother Pete. My best friend Charles passed this year. His family is also my family. They say blood is thicker than water. Well if you’ve ever drank my sweet tea you know I can make some pretty viscous water. Tom is Charle’s brother and Kim is Charles wife and DJ is my best friend’s son and my Godson and when Charles went away my immediate family and Charles’ entire family just clung to each other for dear life and sanity like rats looking for purchase on a floating crate after a ship has just sunk. That’s why I should have known they’d be there when it was time for me to say goodbye to my own brother.
And that was us. We stuck it out. Bill, Jud, Zack, Kayla, Kim, Tom, DJ, Tonya, and me. And when it was over we each gave ourselves our own benediction. I drove DJ home just because he wanted to stay and hang out. Then I spent an hour or so with the Plemmons’ family decompressing. Then DJ said, “Someone needs to tell Shelby goodnight” (Chuck’s mother).
I rushed into her room and said, “I heard you need a goodnight and you asked for your favorite.”
She laughed and hugged me and told me she loved me and William hugged me. And he cried for me and he cried for Charles. And he told me what I meant to his family.
Telling the truth....
There are people here who know how difficult things were in the final months. It’s an ugly difficult and tragic story.
I think everyone has been weary of this eulogy because they knew the truth and feared I’d oversteer and veer out of control. I’m reminded of a quote from a Douglas Adams book where a

character is shown a ridiculously shoddy contraption the builders called a spaceship and the character says, “That’s a spaceship? That can fly? No way. Uh uh. There’s no way that can fly. I don’t believe it. Prove it to me I still won’t believe it.”
Prove it to me I still won’t believe it. The ultimate expression of doubt. The polar opposite of what I consider the ultimate expression of confidence. “There’s no feeling in the world like knowing that you know that you know. That you can walk up to someone and say something to them with the confidence it would take to swing across the pits of Hell on a rotten vine and spit in the Devil’s eye.”
Prove it to me I still won’t believe it is the signal my antennae have been picking up since Bo passed and I volunteered to write the eulogy.
I’ve already had my final vent to Bo. There’s not much left unsettled between us except I didn’t tell him I love him when I had the chance. I tried to comfort him and be graceful but I’d do it differently given a 2nd chance.
And here comes the worst part. The part where I bare my soul for judgement and suffer the slings and the arrows from the people who were far enough out of Bo’s orbit not to ever know how truly frustrating and difficult and tiresome it could be to love him.
I did vent. I did say goodbye to him on that point. And I did it when he was still here. And when I did it all I could say was it how maybe Charlie Brown might have felt after 35 years of having Lucy pull the football away just as I’d run up and started to swing my feet.
So I suppose I’m asking Bo’s forgiveness because for all he ever did that was rotten to me or anyone I’m ashamed of the last text conversation we had...
Please let me come home . I weigh 90 lbs. I can't eat here at the missing.please.
If a list was made of every concession made on your behalf that inconvenienced another peron or persons, I can’t begin to imagine how long the list could possibly be. From mom getting you out of debt with drug dealers, bailing you out of jail, the money and jewelry you stole from her. The things you stole from jud, the trailer pete and dad bought you, Nana trying to accommodate you while you did the things you did while living her.t Jud’s attempt at caring for you, zack and

kayla’s attempt to try and live with you while you were consuming alcohol and doing other unspeakable things. This very last time Pete said it was no joke. you have no one left to lie to. You bite the hand that feeds you 100% of the time. I will repeat, you bite the hand that feeds you 100% of the time, always and forever. I figured it out in my mid twenties. It took pete, dad, jud, nana, and zack longer to figure you out but you took every opportunity to teach them what they needed to know about you. This last time you were begged to get it together cause we have a heart and didnt want to boot you outta dads house. We are electing to throw our hands up with you and throw in the towel. It is groundhog day with you. Sympathy is your currency. You build it up and then spend it all and go away in indignance for awhile and then come crawling back with your tail between your legs saying, “poor me i have nowhere to turn, I’ve learned my lesson.”
We are done betting on the losing horse. We have now decided to put all our bets on the next generation, your son and grandchildren. You have utterly abdicated any responsibility in their lives.
Its done its done its done. You are on your own.
I suppose that was what Jason was closing his eyes shut about last night. He told me, say whatever you want to say. He was your brother and I can’t know what it was like but remember he was our friend. We’ll stand behind you no matter what you say BUT you need to decide what your goal is and who you are serving. Yourself or everyone else. He reminded me as people always will that the funeral is for the people left behind, not for the deceased. He was also afraid that I might miss the opportunity to possibly be inspirational and I wouldn’t celebrate all the great things about Bo.
Which I can do. But before I can I needed to say how ashamed of myself I am now about what were essentially my last meaningful words to Bo. It was fired off in a fit of extreme and ultimate frustration with a central character in my life and I didn’t know they would be my last but I can’t deny having the thought before I pressed send.

So here’s my message...
Don’t do what I did.
Some situations need a hero and I willingly became a despicable villain that day.
Do I have reasons or do I have excuses? It doesn’t matter. Honestly I thought it was another ploy. Another move by Bo. I’m not a confrontational person so I just kept my head down while every cycle an addict lives would begin again and again.
So if you’re inclined to judge me for turning my back on my little brother and condemning him when it seems he REALLY did need me one more last time then I hope you are at least telling yourself, “I’ll never do anything like that.”
If you can do that you’re a better person than me.
But there’s another message threaded inside for anyone who is lost or struggling to put things together. Your family and friends can only take so much. They love you and are pulling for you even if just in secret but a person can be broken it a way that seems unfixable. And I’m not talking about Bo. I’m talking about whatever part of me that broke so many years ago.
Bo was the last of us to be born and the first of us to leave.
He burned bright and fast but tenaciously loved life in some way I can’t explain.
Bo was I realized this week musing about this....Bo was my first best friend.
Of course he was. I was only 18 months older than him. We grew up sharing everything. We shared a room our whole lives until Pete moved out and made room in the home.
Me and Bo spent every minute together when we were little. We had fun together, got in trouble together, played sports together, fought at times vicisciously with each other.
But up until the point I got to have my own room me and Bo were peas and carrots.
And he was funny. And he loved to laugh. And he loved to test life and his boundaries even when we were little. When I was probably 8, Bo came to me one saturday morning and asked if I wanted to go to the store with a $20 bill he had.
“Where did you get it?”

“Nana took me to the mall and I put a quarter in the fountain yesterday and when I woke up this morning this 20 was under my pillow.”
Honestly I recall being incredulous but Bo was insistent and I remember being excited and looking forward to getting up to the mall ASAP with a bag of quarters.
When we got home mom was waiting for us with her hands on her hips. Some kind of dull realization came over me that I wasn’t that bright because it turns out Bo had just gone into her pocketbook that morning and taken the money.
Bless his heart he must have been trying to shield me and give me plausible deniability. My mom was rolling her eyes at me for going along with it.
It occurs to me maybe not sharing a room with Bo anymore was when things started cracking.
Bo’s boss at Pizza Hut, Mike Yarnell said one night to me when Bo had visited some untenable situation on me and my mother. He said sometimes it’s just like a little bird....you have to let it go. Can’t hold it forever.
Bo just wasn’t ever able to put it together outside of his nest. I don’t know if his wings were stunted or had been clipped somehow. Me, Jud, and Pete have been able to cobble together some semblance of a life but everytime Bo left the nest he just couldn’t stay aloft very long. Gravity always won out in Bo’s life and his attempts to fly but when he did manage to fly he was something to see.
Bo was a phenomenal drummer. I’m hoping Lloyd will say more about that later. But he had a much more profound and subtle talent.
Bo knew how to pick friends. Somehow when you look around him through all parts of his life he could cobble together a group of people who were truly unique and amazing and suited for looking out for Bo and squeezing the most fun out of life as he could.
It’s because of Bo that I knew Scott Foster, Jason Sprinkle, Lloyd True. My self imposed distance from Bo prevented me from nurturing and cultivating my own stronger bonds with Bo’s friends. And I know that some of his friends thought I couldn’t stand Bo or his friends either. And I’ll take all the blame for that but just as I accept the blame for being an asshole and not getting to know my brother i accept the blame and grief even more for not being closer with the guardian angels Bo chose to help look after him in in life. I can accept only credit for not loving him to death. The loving dedications go to Scott Foster, Lloyd True, and Jason Sprinkle.