My baby brother George was born when I was 10 . He was my living baby doll. I loved to dress him and take him for walks. My sister and I made all his Halloween costumes, many were totally creative. He was Frank Perdue, and we wrote to Frank and he sent us a bunch of rubber chickens! He was the great white hunter complete with pith helmet. No store bought costumes for this boy. I always decorated special birthday cakes for him since I took cake decorating classes.

Due to the age gap and our similar personalities, we often clashed. But there was always a deep love between us. Our entire family was big on nick names. I named Georgie Fat Head because his license plate was FH 309. One day he was particularly annoying to me and I blurted out, “OK FATHEAD” and it stuck. In return, he would refer to me and my sister as ” Dopey.” Mom called him BoBo once when she couldn’t spit out his name and that stuck as well. My brother-in-law would call him “Mahzod” –Armenian for Hairy. Best of all he was “Bad Georgie” something that stuck from him being a very curious little boy.

He could break or fix anything. But if you asked him the time … rather than just say 2pm he would tell you how to build a clock. But he did talk me through installing a new belt on my dryer. He was a real character. Too stubborn for his own good.

He just refused to believe he was sick with COVID and delayed treatment. Everyone begged him to go to the hospital but he knew better. When he finally went for the antibodies he was he was too sick–his pulse ox level was 60. He was admitted to the hospital and they tried everything to help him but it was too much for his body. He had underlying conditions which made us more frustrated that he ignored his symptoms and made it more difficult to treat him.

The only time I could speak to his Doctors was at 3 or 4am and I still wake up at that time 2 yrs later. I look at my notebook chronicling his illness, each day noting blood work results, MAP level, drug protocols, CT scans and the last question was always “full code or DNR.” Never in my wildest dreams would I think I would hear those words … not for Georgie.

My sister and I were tortured for 3 weeks of this illness that eventually took him from us. WE made the agonizing decision to finally stop treatment and take him off the vent and so at age 57 years old this fun loving, funny, hard working, ambitious stubborn guy died. The only saving grace is that she and I watched him via zoom …(Covid Rules) take his last breath. Surprisingly, it was totally peaceful–no struggling, no gasping, just 6 slow breaths and then nothing.

Camille and I just stared our computers… daring him to wake up. After all, he was so strong and stubborn we both had the secret prayer that he would defy the odds and wake up saying “see I told you so.” But that didn’t happen.

His funeral filled the Armenian church past capacity. I was stunned at how many lives he touched, how many people he’d helped. It always broke my heart that he didn’t have kids because he was wonderful with kids. All the cousins loved him. Generous to a fault, as well. At Christmas he would love to go to Kmart … last minute of Christmas Eve and shop for Blue light specials, he would call me multiple times telling me what he found. Of course he would make me wrap all the gifts. Later when he expanded his business he would cajole his employees to do this.

He was full of “Kef,” the zest and joy for life … He loved attending Armenian dances and was wild at weddings. We used to call him Twinkle toes. He was a big guy but totally light on his feet. Each time when I start to tear up I think of him and his impressions. My 2 favorites are: Imitating a camel, and Warren from ‘There’s Something About Mary’. Every time he wanted something he would do it as Warren … As in “Warren want pancakes” and he would say: “Don’t make me Rock.” When he did this we would all laugh hysterically.

I am still going through some of the pictures of when he was a kid. So cute really–gorgeous black eyes, and an impish grin–how I wish I could hold and hug him just one more time.