We didn’t stay in any one place for long, nor did we ever sit for family portraits. And while revival organizers sometimes took candid snapshots of my father’s fiery sermons and the like, most of those got pitched overboard to make room for an ever-expanding family. So by the time my siblings and I reached adulthood, only a handful of personal photographs remained.
Some wayward pictures were eventually returned by my father’s associates. Some found their way ‘home’ when I reached out to estranged family members. My sister Sheryll, who shares my interest in personal genealogy, tracked down quite a few photographs on her own. Secrets oftentimes stay buried, but we encouraged more than a few hoarders to share their private stash. And as it turned out, I retrieved a good number of images by climbing into my “Nancy Drew” roadster and following my father’s tire ruts down the Sawdust Trail.
When Roger passed away this month, I felt a hollowness in the places where his voice once reverberated. So precious–then and in hindsight–the times we shared in communion, recounting the highlights of our individual and shared stories. Such treasures, the memories and pictures we’ve managed to archive, for ourselves and future generations. This doesn’t seem to me the appropriate place to write my brother’s obituary, but I’ve assembled a small number of images that bear witness to his life.
To my brothers and sisters, a love offering. That’s already printed on the dedication page of my memoir–in my mind’s eye, at least. Same with the pictures of Roger that you see here.
Roger Suva was born in Detroit, Michigan in 1943.
Roger’s standing next to the family dog, facing my father, who has my oldest sister Coral on his lap. A candid (?) snapshot, taken in front of my father’s revival tent in Johnson City, Tennessee.
My brother Roger’s upper elementary school picture, taken the year I was born.
A front-porch respite from the cramped back seat of our family car, the summer before his senior year in high school.
Roger the Bookworm, shortly after college graduation (Wheaton Bible College, in Illinois).
A Christmas hug from his older daughter, Esther.
Hanging out on the front porch with Heather, his younger daughter (Anaheim, California).
An outdoor enthusiast with an irrepressible wanderlust, Roger’s pictured here in Joshua Tree, watching for Halley’s Comet.
A vegetarian before it was fashionable, Roger espoused strong opinions about many things.
We shared a complicated story, and a tangled family tree. Here, Roger’s (re)introducing me to Cliff, whom I’d met on a couple of other occasions but hadn’t yet realized was my brother.
The VW bus that Roger called home for several years before he died.
What stories these weave, just the pictures alone – but your commentary is perfect. <3
Thank you, Pat. Today would’ve been my brother’s birthday. I appreciate that you stopped by to celebrate his life with me.
<3
<3 in return. xo
<3 Yes. That is at the center of this tribute.
Lots of hugs, Melodye. I’m so sorry for your loss.
His eyes have a mischievous twinkle through the years. I’ll bet he was a delight to know.
Roger was incredibly intelligent–you could see the wheels turning behind those cornflower blue eyes! 🙂
Thank you for your kind words. They are a healing balm.
That twinkle didn’t come easy…he was a delight, but he had his moments of torment. I loved being in his presence when his smile was ready, his eyes were shiny & clear.
I can see the resemblance! I’m sorry he’s gone. {hugs} He was lucky to have you.
We share some of our father’s features, don’t we? 🙂
Thank you, Rose, for these kind words and hugs. (Hugs you back!)
Thank you for stopping by to honor him with me. We celebrate his birthday today, and even though we no longer have him with us, we are grateful for the memories that linger.
Thank you for this, dear Melodye. So well said. You did a beautiful thing for your brother and I know deep down he would appreciate it. What a life you both lived…. and I am so filled with happiness that you are living such a wonderful life now.
Much much love,
M
Much love in return, Margaret! I appreciate that you understand this deep sorrow, as well as the joy that burbles up, still and regardless.
I wrote what I could, and illustrated the rest. I feel sorrow for what Roger endured before I was born, and empathy for the difficult times we experienced together. But he is in a happier, more peaceful place now–we both are, even though we are no longer together.
A beautiful tribute. So sorry for your loss, Melodye.
Thank you for helping me honor my brother’s life in this way, Oritte. May it be for a blessing.
Sweet post. Awesome story.
Oh Carol, it was a bittersweet story, but these melancholy times were sweeter for the comforting presence of friends like you.
Wishing you comfort and solace.
That’s the perfect wish, and I appreciate it (and you) so much.
Thanks for sharing. Sorry you lost Roger.
So kind of you to stop by to help me honor Roger’s memory. I feel his absence, but am very glad that he is at peace now, and no longer suffering.
What a poignant story in a few words and pictures. Thank you for bravely putting this together. Sending love.
When words fail, pictures help tell the story. Thank you for swaddling me with loving words and silent support during this tender time. Sending love in return…
thank you Melodye for that lovely visit with your beloved brother Roger, so very nice to meet him. ( ♥ )
Thank you, Tamara, for stopping by to help me honor his life and memory. xo
This is a sweet commemoration of your brother Melodye. I bet that in a while you will look back at your posts and be so very happy you have these memories for comfort. Big hugs sweetie.
(Also, I’m fascinated with your family. You should write a memoir!)
I am comforted today–his birthday– by posts like this, and for the kind words of friends like you. Thank you, Veronica, for helping me honor his memory. xo
You have a lyrical mind’s eye in your writing, and a poignant ability to capture the essence of a moment in your own photography, or in pictures you compile and contextualize. I feel I understand something about your brother’s life from this collection and your captions. He seems like he lived a vibrant, authentic life. I am terribly sorry for your loss. 🙁
Oh Pamela, I don’t have the right words to express my gratitude for the loving thoughts you’ve shared here, on this, the day we celebrate my brother’s birthday and also honor his memory. So I’ll just say “thank you,” and hope you’ll read the hugs between the lines.