10/11/2026
MY LITTLE BROTHER CLAYTON
On What Would Have Been His 63rd Birthday
I remember a little boy,
Just four years old,
Sitting beside his big brother,
Who was only five,
Listening as I proudly read
The words of Dr. Seuss,
As though I knew everything
There was to know about the world.
I remember teaching him to tie a hook,
The way Terry had taught me,
Three brothers bound together
By fishing line and love,
Never knowing how precious
Those ordinary days would become.
I remember the joker,
The mischievous twelve-year-old
Who wired a clock to run backwards
Because Dad threatened an early bedtime.
If time was going to be his enemy,
Clayton would simply make it retreat.
Oh, how I wish
He could have made that clock
Run backwards one more time.
I remember armies spread across our living room,
Tiny soldiers and building-block fortresses,
Great battles fought for hours
In a world only he could command.
And the hide-and-seek champion,
Who could sit so perfectly still,
So wonderfully quiet,
That no one could ever find him.
Funny, little brother,
How I wish I could find you now.
I remember the boy who loved basketball,
Who grew into a man
Who taught young athletes
To reach beyond what they believed possible.
A coach, a teacher, a builder of dreams,
Still commanding his armies,
Only now they wore basketball shoes.
I remember the lessons
You never knew you taught me.
That sometimes love
Means sitting in the back seat
When every part of you
Wants to sit in the front.
Such a simple sacrifice,
Such a powerful truth,
And I learned it
From my little brother.
I remember my first car,
And the day you wrecked it.
Mom was afraid to tell me,
Certain I would be angry.
But cars are only metal,
And money is only money.
I had just one question:
"Is Clayton okay?"
Because even then I knew
There was nothing you could break
That mattered more to me
Than having you alive.
And now, my brother,
Here comes the hardest part.
I knew the little boy so well,
But I wish I'd known the man much better.
I wish we'd shared more conversations,
More laughter, more ordinary afternoons,
More moments that seemed like nothing
But would mean everything today.
I cried out to God, Clayton.
I begged Him to let you stay.
I prayed with all the faith I had,
But cancer took you anyway.
And I still don't understand why.
I know that God is good.
I know that Jesus wept.
But knowing doesn't stop the tears
Or fill the empty place you've left.
Today you would be sixty-three,
And I would give so much
To hear your laughter once again,
To see that mischievous smile,
To sit beside you,
Even for a little while.
I'd let you have the front seat, brother.
I'd gladly take the back.
I'd read you one more Dr. Seuss book,
Or help you tie a hook.
I'd sit among your little soldiers,
And watch your battles unfold.
I'd even help you wire that clock
To turn back all the years we've lost.
But time moves only forward,
No matter how we plead.
And sometimes God leaves questions
That this side of heaven cannot answer.
So today I'll hold the memories,
The laughter and the tears,
The little boy I grew up with,
The man I missed through too many years.
And though I cannot hold you,
Or hear your voice again,
I'll carry you within my heart
Until my journey ends.
You were my little brother, Clayton,
And that will always be.
Not cancer, death, nor passing years
Can take that love from me.
I loved the boy.
I wish I'd known the man.
And if I had one more day with you,
I'd spend it simply being
Your big brother again.
Happy birthday, Clayton.
I miss you, little brother.
More than these words can ever say.
With love, always,
Your big brother, Colin
F. Colin Long
October 11, 2026
