My little brother, Boyd, passed away yesterday. He died of a brain tumor, and once he was diagnosed, he went very fast.
My folks adopted Boyd when he was three years old and I was twenty-two. They were originally going to adopt him and his two older siblings, but my mother got ill and his brother and sister went to other families. He was finally able to reconnect with them just a few years ago.
The lady in the picture is Tina Western who loved him and cared for him in his final days.
Boyd led an interesting but challenging life, working at a variety of jobs including as a deck hand on fishing boats in the Gulf of Mexico, at a chicken processing plant in North Carolina, and as a dancer at La Bare, a male strip club in Houston and Dallas.
I remember making a service call at an insurance company in Conroe and seeing a full-sized cut out of Boyd wearing his trademark grin and a gold lame jockstrap. The lady who had it in her office noticed me looking at it and when I explained that it was my little brother she got all excited. I never told her he was adopted.
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