My big brother Paul died last August, just shy of his 89th birthday. He was the oldest of my five brothers, all of them now dead. It’s just me and my sister Mary now, and God love her, it just ain’t the same.
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No more brothers in my life. I am the youngest of the six Houlihan brothers.
I miss them, that’s for sure.
Even though they would kick my ass regularly for my first twenty years, once we could drink together, all bets were off. Now I’m an old man.
Having five big brothers who had my back was something I got used to. They were all unique in their own ways, but I knew I could pick up the phone and reach out to them for help whenever things would get a little too intense, financially, romantically, or even politically, they got it.
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