KatyStoll

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Remembering My Big Brother KoKo

This is pretty hard for me to write, and I apologize if it seems a bit indulgent, but this weekend marks the first year anniversary of my beautiful big brother’s passing and I want to take a moment to acknowledge the man that is so painfully missed in my life. I am grieving not only for the loss of my brother, but for the loss of all the memories we could have shared.

Koko always seemed larger than life. He was love and color and sunshine.  He was music and mayhem. He was also uncertainty, rage and frustration. He was addiction and self deceit. As much as I adored him, I was scared of him, and for a very long time that was a huge obstacle between us.

However, there came a point in his life when he realized he needed to make changes; for himself and for his son. And he did. He did so gracefully and wholly. Knowing what I know about addiction, this is no small feat. It is of great testament to the integrity of his spirit that he was able to transcend everything and put his life back together. And while I am outrageously angry that his life was cut short, I am also very grateful for the past 10 years I spent learning and loving this larger than life enigma.

He was generous; not only would he give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it, he frequently did. His apartment was a refuge for buddies who needed a meal and a place to sleep. He couldn’t bear to turn anyone away. One of his old party friends recently told me that, “I was down and out and didn’t deserve anything. But Michael gave me dignity when I had none.” Koko accepted everyone with love and compassion, no matter what state he found them in.

He was honest; brutally so. He said what he thought and frequently did so ungracefully. But he meant well and usually realized when he was being an ass. He just wanted so desperately for the people he cared about to learn from their flaws…

He was kind of a conspiracy theorist, but he was usually pretty right. At least when it came to Monsanto.

He was forgiving. If you fell down he wouldn’t hold it against you, instead he would offer you a hand to help you back up.

He didn’t believe in tattoos. “They may be pretty, but they make you more identifiable if you ever need to flee the country. I know what you’re thinking, Katy, but even YOU might need to get away from Fat Cat America someday. You really never know.”

He would really hate that I am writing this and am probably going to publish it.

WELL I’m sorry, but I feel a little better just writing it. And I’m still (probably) going to get that tattoo. And I will always fucking miss you so hard. And I will always try to make you proud. And I will make sure Aidan turns out, just the best.

I LOVE YOU