I wrote about my involvement with Toastmasters in my last post. I joined that group knowing I would be required to deliver speeches. Of one thing I was certain. I wasn’t going to ignore an opportunity to talk about my older brother.  Circumstances permitted me to only give three formal speeches to our Toastmaster chapter and my presentation on Erik was the third.

But I had written about Erik before. In the first “To Be Known” post I mentioned that I’d blogged about his life and being his sister. Writing about Erik was a way for me to connect with others who might also be caring for a mentally disabled family member. And I SO yearned for connection with them.

On a blog entitled “Hi, This is Erik.” I described our very ordinary and extra-ordinary days. When I began that blog in 2011 Erik was already having some memory trouble. Over the two years I wrote his health struggles got more and more serious.

Watching and caring for a family member suffering from dementia and Alzheimer’s changes a person. I constantly told God as I walked into Erik’s room, “Lord, I don’t know how to do this.” But I was determined to notice and attend to his needs, try to get him to laugh and maybe sing. Even when it seemed like he didn’t know who I was. And even as he couldn’t tell me how he was doing, having lost his ability to speak.

But, back to Toastmasters.  I wrote and practiced my speech.  And took one prop with me, a portrait of him.

Here is that speech describing Erik, one of the most exceptional guys there ever was.

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Thank you Mr. Toastmaster.

I’d like to introduce you to someone very special to me.  Meet my older brother, Erik.  (turn portrait around to the audience) 

Some people might see Erik and predict his handicap would be a limitation. 

When Erik was born in 1960, the doctor advised my parents to put him in an institution because his life would never amount to much.  Our parents took him home, and loved him.

And, you know, his life exceeded all that doctor’s expectations.  Today I have the honor to share with you how being his sister impacted me.

I was born next after Erik so instead of him assuming the role of oldest child, that passed to me.  I watched over him instead of the other way around.

Growing up, I saw him participate in Boy Scouts, Special Olympics. He sang in choirs and work full-time. He was an avid Dallas Cowboy fan. But I think my most frequent memories revolve around him singing with gusto to the music he liked.  I can tell you, Erik never sang word-perfect but in his mind he was.

But even more than the Cowboys and singing Erik relished good food.  He never met a hamburger he didn’t like.  

When I became engaged, Mike quickly learned how serious Erik took eating. The first time that the 3 of us went to lunch was to Grandy’s. Mike wanted to chat but Erik had chicken fried steak and gravy sitting right there, So he calmly said to Mike, “Eat now, talk later.” It must not have worked very well because he then looked for another way to get us to let him eat in peace.  He said “Mike, look at Liz, Liz, look at Mike!”

He never met a stranger. He would to walk up to anyone and introduce himself. “Hi, I Erik”

Being so social, he regularly telephoned people after work.  And I was on his list!  I would hear him on the line, (hold telephone) with his little stutter, “Hi dis is Erik, How you been doin?”  

Sometimes he’d call just to inform me “Liz, it gonna rain” or “My birthday’s coming.”

Next to the Cowboys, food and socializing, I saw how attached Erik was to his watch, especially knowing it had the correct time.  

His watch played a huge role in him being a model employee.  Do you know that he worked full-time for 27 years in the Irving hospital?  This portrait was taken of Erik when he was awarded Employee of the Month.  

I’m convinced he thought his job was one of the most important ones in the building.  And you know how everyone has a low opinion of hospital food?  Not so with Erik, he loved that cafeteria.

When his work day was done, he’d go home with his diet coke, sit in his recliner, and rest.  He had been on his feet from 6am till 3 at the hospital collecting linens from every floor, lifting large bags, teasing all the nurses. 

Speaking of teasing.  Some people are just a hoot to be around when they’re having fun.  Erik’s teasing was like that.  We’d be riding around in the car with him and he’d start with his special brand of knock knock jokes:  “Mike, knock knock!  Who’s there?  Hair. Hair who?  You have hair on your head!” And he’d sit back so impressed with himself. 

When Erik was 46 he began to become more confused. He retired from his job at Irving hospital and moved to a group home in central Texas.  He loved it there.  He continued to call me almost every day and after a while I noticed we started to have the exact same conversation every time.  Some time went by and he took a downturn. He needed more care and had pretty much lost all of his ability to speak.  We moved him back to this area.  The past 12 months of his life were so special to me as I was his main caregiver, taking care of his clothes, his toiletries, doctor appointments.  I spent lots of precious time with him.  He may not have been able to speak but he was still Erik and he could still sing and he could still tease me!

 We would sit in his room, singing to Kenny Rogers songs, throwing a nerf football to eachother, very simple things.  One day there was an orange balloon in his room.  God bless the person who gave Erik that orange balloon. We just started hitting it back and forth to eachother and I discovered if he hit me right in the face with that balloon, he would erupt in laughter! Of course, I’d do anything to see that happen over and over.  

Our communication had changed from in the good old days …him telling me in great detail what he had for lunch at the hospital and how good it was …..to me walking into his room at the assisted living facility as he wordlessly open the door of his little fridge, looked at it and then at me, perfectly communicating  “Do you see that I’m out of diet cokes again?”  (photo included for you, readers)

It’s too hard to have only 7 minutes for this speech because I could go on and on.

His first doctor predicted Erik would not achieve much.  But because of him, much was shaped in me. God used him to help me slow down, develop patience and embrace simplicity.  I learned not to take things for granted. And to love and bear with someone who needed to be heard when he had a hard time expressing himself.   And I learned from Erik’s childlike faith. For years whenever he heard that I or someone else was sick he’d say “Aw, I pray for you” or “I pray for them.”

A verse in the Bible I love says:  The eye cannot say to the hand, I don’t need you and the head cannot say to the feet, I don’t need you.  On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. 

During Erik’s 53 yeas, he touched many lives and he was completely oblivious to the fact. 

I, for one, am changed from the privilege of being his sister.

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Reader, if you’re interested  in more stories of Erik I’ve posted links to some of my favorites below. Erik has been gone now for about 7 years.  Those who knew him will never forget him. I’m so happy to introduce him to you. I’d love to hear stories of special members of your family.

Sweet welcome for Erik

What mental handicap?

Erik’s sweeter than sugar