Wednesday, July 9th, 2025 Church Directory

So Long My Brother

 
A week ago Friday, my brother, Christopher Kelly Morgan, died at 8:05 a.m. while in hospice care in Rochester.
 
He was just 59 years old. He perished from liver disease or as the professionals call it, cirrhosis.
 
It really is a damn shame seeing someone’s life cut short like that. He had so much life in him and so much more to give to this world. The hardest part was watching him erode quickly from a smiling, vibrant, handsome middle-aged man to a mere skeleton in a few short years.
 
We did all we could to get him a new liver, but in the end, hope ran out. The last week of his life he laid in a sleepy coma with his mouth draped open and little if any movement or sound. He no longer was the brother I remembered so vividly from our childhood.
 
Chris was #6 in a family of 10. He was an energetic little boy and perhaps a little mischievous. He was diminutive and it wasn’t until later on did I find out he got teased a lot in school for his small size. That might account for his larger-than-life personality he developed as he headed into his late teens and adulthood.
 
Chris, with his dimpled smile and trimmed features grew into a man of charisma, charm and style. I envied the clothes he bought and wore and sometimes would get yelled at should I venture into his Calvin Klein-ish closet to garner a freshly-ironed shirt. 
 
No doubt about it, Chris was a ladies man. He attracted women and made them swoon every time his dimply smile  dazzled. I admired him as his little brother and hoped one day just a little bit of that magnetism would rub off on me.
 
Chris had a heart of gold, yet that heart had suffered a major blow when he  met a young lady (name escapes me) just out of high school. Their romance was hot and heavy and Chris was sure he had found a mate for life. She surprised him with the news she had joined the military and she coaxed him to follow in her footsteps.
 
Chris, with his tongue dragging on the ground, conceded and joined the Air Force to stay close to her. Shortly thereafter, she broke off their relationship and I really don’t think Chris ever recovered from it.
 
He did get married late in his life to a wonderful woman who had two teenage children. That marriage fell apart after a few years and Chris fell into isolation.
 
Chris was always a very passionate, deep person who dabbled in poetry and journaling. Sometimes his poems would generate head nods while others would cause questions to be asked. He had a perplexing way of examining the world around him and he wasn’t afraid to share his thoughts and ideas with whoever had an ear.
 
Chris would later take his story-telling abilities to the stage as a stand-up comedian at several local clubs in the Minneapolis area. His style didn’t always connect with the audience but he thoroughly enjoyed the spotlight and made the most of capturing a dream of his.
 
I remember as a child when the family and neighbor kids were in the back yard for a birthday party, I saw Chris come running by everyone with terror in his eyes and screams so loud, the animals and birds took cover. He ran right up to mom and pointed to his back. He had a dragonfly perched on his left shoulder blade and he was scared witless. I laugh at it now but I still get a little creeped out whenever I see a dragonfly hovering nearby.
 
Another time when I was around nine or 10, my brothers and a few cousins of ours set out to make the one-mile walk to Humboldt Drug Store to buy some ice cream, candy or baseball cards. As we approached block #10, a cousin picked up a rock and threw it at a bird that was scampering across a nearby yard. I wanted to fit in with these mostly-older siblings and relatives so I picked up a small stone and heaved it in the same direction. Unfortunately, my brother Chris was in direct line of my wicked side-arm throw.
 
I nailed him in the temple just by his left eye.
 
He collapsed to the ground and I could immediately see blood drooling down his face. I ran.
 
Yep, I high-tailed it for home and when I arrived I scooted right by my mom in the kitchen and plopped myself down on the couch in the living room. I was panting like a worn-out dog and sweat enveloped me like a rain shower. My mom asked me where the others were and I just sat there frozen. I was sure I had killed my brother.
 
Moments later, my family escorted a crying Chris into the house where mom took a look at it and declared it non-life threatening. Just a bandage and a wrap and all would be fine.
 
Whew! I was relieved.
 
Chris never held it against me and never spoke of the incident. I guess he knew right away there was no ill-intent and saw my sadness at what I had done. Another example of Chris’s big heart.
 
I also remember  the time Chris approached me at my wedding reception  and asked for my car keys. Puzzled, I obliged and he then told me he had rented a limousine for Terri and me to take from the reception to our hotel near the airport. He also made arrangements to pick us up the next day and transport us home at no charge.
 
That was one of the nicest, most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me. That was Chris’s heart.
 
I’ll always remember the last day I was with Chris when he wasn’t in his sleep coma, I went to tell him goodbye when we were leaving and I grasped his hand. He didn’t want to let go. He held my hand so tight I really think he was sure this was the last time he was going to see me.
 
Sure enough, three days later he fell asleep and never opened his eyes again. We were all amazed that he had the fortitude to continue to live on for another 10 days before his final breath, but I knew that even though the rest of his body was dying off, his heart was keeping him alive. 
 
That soulful, generous, passionate heart of his.
 
So long my brother. Thank you for being you.