Notes from George
An Introduction
My brother George never set out to be a teacher. He wasn’t loud with his wisdom, and he never sought the spotlight. His lessons were carried in the quiet way he lived—simple words, steady love, and a bravery that never asked to be noticed.
This series, Notes from George, gathers those moments and holds them close. They are reminders of the best little brother anyone could have, and reflections of the truth he lived: that love, even when whispered, leaves an echo that carries on.
George was born on June 23, 1956, and by December 25th, he became my most cherished Christmas gift. I had wished for a baby brother, and that morning, our father walked through the front door with George nestled in a Christmas stocking. None of us could have known the adventures we were about to share.
Named in honor of our grandfather, George E. Bell, he carried a piece of our family’s history with him
As brother and sister, we journeyed through life—sometimes walking side by side, sometimes wandering apart. We weathered crises, drifted into our own worlds, lost touch, and found our way back again. We loved without condition, built memories to last, and never measured one another by mistakes.
We trusted, we pretended when reality was too heavy, and we held close the truths only we could understand.
Through it all, we carried and cared for each other—until the very end, on January 5, 2022.
George always longed to return to Port Alexander, Alaska—the place that held his heart. Though not in the way he had dreamed, he is home now. I honored his wish and made sure he found his way back
For fifty years, I have carried a box filled with pieces of our story—photos, letters, recorded calls, hospital Zooms, and my own journals.
Today, I opened that box. It is time to honor George’s wisdom and share his quiet teachings.
I am the last one left of our small family, and it has become my mission to honor not only our mother, but also George—through my words, through memory, through love.
💜 George, thank you for teaching me that patience is a form of love.
May I carry your quiet strength within me. May I remember that slowing down is not failure—it is faith.
And may those who read these words find peace in the waiting, too.
Doretta asks Santa for a brother for Christmas.
Mom and George on Christmas Day
Dad brings George home at Christmas
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