My Brother

My brother died today, after a valiant two-month battle with cancer. Always in good health, Tops’ sudden illness blindsided us, his family. We tried to be brave for him and for each other and found in his uncomplaining spirit a strength that inspired us and gave us hope.

My brother died today and I found out in an airplane, that loneliest of venues if one is traveling alone. I was heading home to Portland after a fulfilling week of serving on the leadership team for the We Remember, We Believe youth liturgy conference in Sacramento. The plane was picking up speed and ready to take off when, suddenly, the pilot stepped on the brakes and aborted the flight because of mechanical failure. It was terrifying. As we sat idly on the runway, a text message came in on my cell phone from my youngest brother Orlando.

My loving family. Tops left us at 7:10 this morning. He is no longer suffering. He is free of pain and on his next adventure. Love to you all. –Orlando

I looked at my watch. The pilot hit the brakes at 7:10. Because cell phones are turned off in-flight, I would not have received news of my brother’s death for another hour and a half if we had taken off as planned. The realization of that coincidence (grace?) had me shaking like a leaf. And then, it hit me. Tops was gone.

I cried. Alone. On a plane. I wanted so desperately for someone, anyone to hug me. The only thing I could turn to was prayer. I prayed three Hail Marys for the repose of my brother’s soul.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. . .

My brother died today. We buried our father in 1986 after a long struggle of convalescence from a massive heart attack. We held out hope back then for dad’s recovery, but he was in his 80s and his tired body could take no more. An adult child expects to someday bury a parent. To bury a sibling, a brother with whom one has played with, fought with, cried with, and had adventures with -- it just seems so wrong.

My brother died today. Little things cause me to tear up without warning. I see a little kid on a bicycle on the street and that reminds me of the way Tops used to tag along with me on our many bicycle romps to the beach during those carefree summer days of long ago. The tears come. I turn on the radio while driving and hear the Beatles on the oldies station. Then I remember that I treated Tops to his very first rock concert when he was 15. We saw Paul McCartney & Wings during their 1976 tour. I remember looking back at my little brother as we sat together in the sports arena, his face beaming with joy as we heard our favorite Wings and Beatles songs performed live. I have to pull over and stop the car because I am sobbing uncontrollably.

My brother died today. His Christian name was Terence but we called him Tops, a quirky, unique and oh-so-wonderful nickname. In childhood, we called him Topsy, and I like to think it was because he was the “Top C,” meaning the Top Canedo. He shortened it to the cooler “Tops” when he became a teenager. But mom has another explanation: We called our brother Tops because he excelled in everything.

Tops was a cartoonist, an artist, a gifted musician, a recording engineer, a website designer, a creative gardener, and general fix-it man. His portfolio of hand-drawn and graphic art is beautiful to peruse. If I ever needed a lead guitarist for one of my many pick-up bands, Tops was there, wailing away on riffs that would make Carlos Santana sit up and take notice. If I needed to make a demo recording, Tops was there for me in his garage studio that was set up like a mad scientist’s lab, with makeshift recording equipment that proved just as effective as the professional stuff. Was the roof leaking from the rain? No problem! Tops was up there on the roof, fixing it himself.

But of all his skills and talents, Tops’ greatest gift was to be a caring son, a supportive brother, and a loving parent. His daughter Katya is a sweet high school girl who has inherited her father’s good looks and musical talent. When I was in Los Angeles in June to visit Tops in the hospital, Katya played her guitar for me and sang her favorite pop song. I was overcome by the realization that my little niece had blossomed into a beautiful, talented young woman who is as loving and gifted as her father.

My brother died today, and I will miss him forever. I can never begin to understand why something as terrible as cancer had to take Tops away from us so soon. I can only cling to my faith in God, and to the hope that we will all be reunited with our brother in the life to come. In my spiritual imagination, our brother was warmly greeted at the gates of heaven by our dad. I also like think that God let Tops go straight to work, adding some rock pizzaz to the angelic choirs, tending the divine gardens, and fixing the leaky roof over the Father’s house that has many dwelling-places (John 14:1-6).

My brother died today, but he will live forever in our hearts.



Tops as a young father, holding his new-born baby Katya.