Roughly ten days ago, my cousin Sabrina messaged me to relay the news that our cousin Brack Howard had died. He was born in 1955, which places him at 61 or 62 at the time of his passing. I’m unfamiliar with the details.
I’d been waiting for an obituary to be published, but given that Brack’s wishes were that neither a service be conducted nor a funeral held (he was cremated), it seemed there might be no public notice, either.
This seems a shame, so please forgive me for any possible trespass as I remember him here.
Brack was his middle name. His first name was Roger, and he was named for my father. To be honest, we hadn’t been particularly close since my childhood years, but Brack always took an interest in me back then despite our five-year difference in age, and I’m thankful to him for this, as I was an only child, and he was someone fun to play with.
Talkative and friendly, probably the only harm Brack ever did was to himself, and he’s certainly not alone in this regard. He had issues, many self-inflicted. So do the rest of us. It isn’t something I often say, though surely merited in this instance: I’m happy he’s at peace, as I suspect it often was elusive in life.
My cousin Brack Howard is survived by a brother (Jeffrey) and sister (Whitney).