Haiku for baby brothers

Once upon a time
You followed me, everywhere.
Now, I'll follow you.

Brother Ray

I'm sitting with my younger brother as he makes his journey from this world into the next. I watch as his friends stop by and view what remains of my 6'7" mountain man. My "little" brother who towered over me by nearly a foot and a half, ravaged by cancer, flesh hanging from his once robust frame. Strong and powerful he once hung a boyfriend upside down by his ankles off a two story balcony over the Rogue River in order to explain to him that he didn't like the way the boyfriend was talking to his sister. Traumatic for the boyfriend, and stupid if he had dropped him; it might have been manslaughter, but one of those things that can make a sister feel a bit warm and fuzzy (at least after I broke up with the boyfriend). He was always doing over the top things in order to make his point, so prone to unbelievable tall tales that it was occasionally hard to believe him, but even I was surprised by the story his friend Peter shared with me.

Peter, sat down quietly by me and watched as Ray labored to breathe. He told me about a fly fishing trip they took together with friends on one of local rivers. The current was swift, so they would cast up stream and allow their lines to drift with the current past them and start the process again.
A stranger, from a neighboring town, joined them and proceeded to cast straight out crossing three lines, creating havoc with their technique. tangling lines and stealing the tranquility of the day. My brother, Ray, his friend Peter, and the rest of the fishing expedition tried to explain to the stranger about the current, and how he should cast upstream and allow his line to drift past them, so that he would quit crossing the other lines, tangling them, and ruining the experience for everyone. Fishing, Peter explained, is meant to be fun and relaxing. Peter relaxed, smiling as he described the events, they had just wanted the stranger to listen, but he continued to cast straight out from the bank creating a tangled mess of line for no apparent reason other than he did not want to be told how to cast. Quietly, according to Peter, my brother pulled his line, set his pole, slowly walked up the bank to his truck, and started to rummage around. His friends continued to try to fish and paid little attention to what he was doing until a gun shot echoed over their head's and the stranger's bobbin exploded in tiny pieces; shot out of the water by my brother standing on the upper bank.

The startled stranger grabbed his pole, what was left of his fishing tackle, and quickly departed as my brother quietly strolled back to the bank picked up his pole, and cast his line upstream to gently bob past him on the current while his friends sat stunned. Finally, Peter exclaimed, "I can't believe you did that".
My brother's reply was, " I came to fish and relax and I got tired of talking about it. Now, let's fish."