One on the Porch dies of a Broken heart

Not a good day...My brother Joseph William Kircher, the kid on the right in the picture for this blog, died in his sleep Sunday night, 4 January 2010. 

I'll get back to this later...

Joseph was the name of my great-grandfather on the Kircher side, the German immigrant who came from Fulda/Geisa to America in 1852 as a 12 year old and later fought in the American Civil War.  William was my Grandpa Swartz' name, everybody called him Bill - the guy who had the grocery store in Mill City.  Ancestor Joseph Kircher's gravestone is at left with the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) flag holder.  My brother, the most recent Joseph Kircher, will be buried between him and Susan Kern in the Newton-Ransom Cemetery, thanks to my brother Steve.

It's different when a brother dies, especially when he is younger, but not by much.  We fought like crazy when we were young.  Punching each other in the arm, playing in the fields.  All that 'brother' stuff.  He always picked on me and when we were real young there are pictures of him grabbing at my ears and just generally taunting me as a brother would do.  You can see him taunting me unjustly to the right.

But in the end, he gave up.  He was a guy who needed to work, and he did not do well with idle time and when he was not around people.  Sandy and I saw him in September last year when we visited and he seemed in good spirits although he was in pain because of his legs.  He did so well when we were together up there although it was obvious he was suffering - not only physically but also in his heart.  He was as he always was - cracking jokes about my RV and how it reminded him of the Beverly Hillbillies - I became 'Jed Clampett,' and Sandy was Ellie May.  He was always like that, a sense of humor although pretty dry.  He could play the guitar like Eddie Van Halen but never put it to use.  He loved Christmas and was famous for vast spreads of decorations and food around the house and was almost yearly in the running to win WNEP TV Channel 16's contest for the most elaborate Christmas lights outside the house.  In fact, they did show his house on TV one night a few years ago.

He was the mechanic.  Dad always put him at the Gas Station - Kircher's Korner in Clarks Summit - and me at the farm.  He wanted to work on the farm and I wanted to be at the gas station.  Go figure the people skills of dad Leon on that one.  So I ran away - but that's another story.  He was also a welder of immense skills.  He was so good that he could spot weld together the tin from soda cans.  I am not up to speed on all that but I hear that is a skill very few welders have.  His former boss said as much at the viewing. 

We Kircher kids are not good at saying much about the things we feel.  I didn't go to Church this Sunday because I didn't want anyone to have to feel sorry for me.  Go figure.  Joe was much the same.  He held everything in.  Brother Steve went over an untold number of times to try and get him to go to the doctor but Joe refused.  Steve had to stop by daily just to be sure he was still alive - what kind of duty is that?  But Joe was his brother, and Steve is the hero.  But in the end, we all admired him.  We all loved him although we never said it.  At right is mom Alice with me and Joe probably early 1957 when we lived in Clarks Summit.  I was smiling...Joe was wondering what was going on with the bright lights.

At the funeral cousin Kevin Swartz said Joe just went downhill when he didn't have a job.  He said when Joe heard of a family that didn't have enough money to pay their electricity that he went over and paid it for them.  He said Joe died of a broken heart.  I spent years in college and seminary and have all the requisite degrees...but it was Kevin who had it figured out...'died of a broken heart...'  We will miss him terribly.