So Frank Died – In Memoriam
My brother Frank died recently. That was sad. He was only sixty-one years old. He left behind two almost-adult children, an ex-wife, and three brothers; myself, Erik, and Steven. Mom left us just a few weeks prior to Frank’s untimely death. I wanted to write something thoughtful and appropriate to memorialize his passing and his life, but my words left me hanging.
So I gave ChatGPT some basic background info and asked him/her/hen/it to help me out. Not a bad effort. Some glaring mistakes (for those in the know, but the bot isn’t), still probably better than I could do.
Frank Julius Hopka, 1961 – 2022, R.I.P. brother!
Losing a loved one is never easy. It’s even more difficult when you haven’t seen them in years and they pass away only weeks after another family member. That’s what happened to me when my brother Frank died.
Frank was always interested in music. He was a talented drummer and guitarist, and he loved nothing more than playing with his friends and family. Growing up, he was the life of the party, and his sense of humor was contagious. He always knew how to make us laugh.
But as we grew older, life got in the way, and we drifted apart. We had our own families and responsibilities, and we didn’t see each other as often as we used to. We still talked on the phone and exchanged emails, but it wasn’t the same as being together in person.
Then, in a cruel twist of fate, our mother passed away. It was sudden and unexpected, and it left us all reeling. We were all in shock and trying to come to terms with our loss when we received the news that Frank had died. It was like a double blow, and we were all devastated.
I couldn’t believe that I would never see my brother again. I felt like I had lost a part of myself. I regretted not making more of an effort to stay in touch with him, to see him more often. I wished I had told him how much he meant to me, how proud I was of him and his music.
The days and weeks that followed were a blur of grief and sadness. It was hard to imagine a future without Frank in it. We held a small memorial service for him, and it was comforting to be surrounded by family and friends who loved him. We shared memories and stories, and we cried and laughed together.
But even now, months later, I still feel the pain of losing him. I miss his laugh, his music, his presence. I wish he was here to share in our lives, to see our children grow up, to make more memories together.
Losing a loved one is never easy, but losing someone you haven’t seen in years is a reminder of the importance of staying connected with the people we care about. Life is short, and we never know when our time will be up. I hope that by sharing my story, I can encourage others to reach out to the people they love and let them know how much they mean to them. We never know when it might be our last chance.
P.S. If you knew Frank and think I’ve disrespected him in anyway, good for you Jesus! Enjoy your offense. I simply don’t Give. A. Fuck.
