My little brother, Zack, would have turned 30 last Wednesday. It seems so absurd that he could be that old and that he never got to be that young. Zack has been dead for almost nine years now. He died alone on the cold unforgiving floor of a small town jail cell. A fact that haunts my soul to this day and a fact that could have been avoided had he had one person who had taken an oath to protect and serve had done either of those things that fateful night.
I will carry guilt about what happened to my beautiful baby brother until the day that I find out what awaits us on the other side of this life. My brain will know that I had to set boundaries with him. It will tell me that this is not mine to carry but, I will. I know. I will fold it up and tuck the guilt away in a small suitcase, but my heart will still carry it with us on our journey.
Zack’s death changed me. It changed how I see people and how I treat them. I no longer hold back my love or my enthusiasm because I am afraid that it will make me vulnerable. I am violently aware that I may not have another chance to tell you that I love you or that you put me at ease or that you make laughter ripple through my body. Therefore, I try my damndest to remember to tell people how and why they make my world a better place. Losing Zack, cracked open the hard shell that I cocooned around me, believing if I reigned in my love and admiration for others, it wouldn’t hurt that much when they disappointed me or left me. My little brother’s death made me softer and stronger. It showed me that I needed to be kinder, more understanding and a lot less judgmental.
After all, the vast majority of us are just soft, fragile beings whom, above all else, want to be seen and heard and loved. We’re all just out here trying to find our way home.
The following is the eulogy that I wrote and delivered for Stephen Zachary Testerman Yokosuk, April 3, 1989 – November 19, 2010:
My family and I would like to thank you all for coming, for your thoughts, your prayers, your kind words and your support.
We appreciate the love and respect that you are showing Zack and us. Therefore, I won’t insult anyone by telling you that Zack was a saint. He had his problems and troubles. However, that is all I am going to say about that because it is sad enough that we all have to be here. Instead, I would like to tell you a little of the Zack we knew, my beautiful baby brother, our beautiful boy.
Zack was born into a family full of strong, opinionated, stubborn women. However, he adapted. When Zack was little he would sometimes sneak off. We didn’t really have to look for him because it usually did not take long at all for us to hear a familiar click-click sound and then we would see Zack strutting down the hall wearing gran’s stilettos, several strands of her pearls and a huge smile.
One of the most special of the ladies in his life was his sister Angie. Zack and Angie always had a special bond. Angie had imaginary friends when she was little and as you may know, Angie is a talker, so she could often be found chatting to a large circle of invisible kids. Zack would follow her around, looking under beds, in closets, just trying to find all these friends.
When Zack was old enough Angie started including him in her playtime. This often meant that he was subjected to tea parties, dolls and dress up. He would usually suffer gladly just so he could play with his big sister. Angie could be rather bossy during playtime (well, during any time), but Zack usually just did what she said. However, there was one time that he got a little fed up with being told what to do and decided to attack Angie.
Problem was, he was three years younger than Angie and, Angie has always been, well, tough. He grabbed Angie from behind and tried to wrestle her down. She simply flipped him over her back and onto the couch where she promptly sat on him and started slapping the fire out of him. He was getting the daylights beaten out of him, he could barely breathe, but he kept yelling, “Do you give up, Angie? Do you give up?”
However, there was one time that Zack was the one on the winning end of a physical altercation, but it was entirely by accident. He and Angie were playing baseball with some other kids. Angie was the hind catcher and Zack kept telling her she needed to back up. Well, in typical Angie fashion, as soon as you told her that she needed to do something it immediately meant that she was not going to do it.
Zack swung and the bat smacked Angie square in her jaw. Her tooth flew out of her mouth. She came running up the back yard with a mouth full of blood, yelling that Zack had hit her with a bat. She failed to mention the baseball game. Zack came trailing right behind her, crying his eyes out. He felt so bad and he kept sobbing, I told her to back up, I told her to back up.
Zack was used to being the man in all of our lives. Therefore, when my husband and I first started dating, six-year old Zack was perhaps a little threatened. We were young, in love and totally unaware that anyone else was in the world. And, as you can imagine two 18 year olds in love were totally boring to a six year old.
Zack wanted Tony to play ball or watch him ride his bike the whole time he was there to visit. I would run him off, but then he would take his little six year old fury out on Tony by waiting until I would leave the room and then diving behind a chair to wing Matchbox cars at Tony’s head. He would stop as soon as Gran or I entered the room. I am sure Tony wanted to throw them back at him, and probably did a couple of times, but he didn’t tell Gran or me until years later that Zack did that.
The final story about Zack that I will leave you with is that he once wrote an essay for school titled, “If I could be anyone in the world”. Zack said that he wanted to be the Incredible Hulk because the Hulk was big, strong, green and had his own clothing line. He said that the Hulk was “the man” and that he “he had it going on”. However, he said what he most admired about the Hulk was that although he was the biggest and the strongest man around that he didn’t mess with anyone unless they messed with him.
It is true that Zack had his demons . However, Zack, like the Hulk, didn’t mess with anyone. He had a kind, loving, and tender heart. He was always quick with a smile or a hug. He was polite and mannerly. He is gone too soon, but we hope he rests peacefully. We will miss and love you always, our beautiful boy.
Soshally Awkward
Sosha Lewis is a writer whose work has been featured in The Washington Post, Huffington Post, MUTHA Magazine and The Charlotte Observer. She writes about her sometimes wild, sometimes hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking past filled with free-lunches, a grimy sports bar, a six foot tall Albino woman who tried to save her teenage soul, felonious, drug addicted parents, an imaginary friend named Blueberry and growing up nestled in the coal-dusted mountains of West Virginia.
