By Wanda Good

When my family would get together for Christmas, my brother Troy would make his grand appearance wearing a Santa hat, lugging a huge black garbage bag full of gifts. 

Now Troy would always let you know he wanted a gift that was nice and expensive — like an Adidas jogging suit or a watch. But in his bag of gifts, we knew it was going to be something no one wanted. Troy would smile and pull out the neatly wrapped presents that he found lying around his house. He would hand out things like a bread cutter with crumbs still caught in the blade. Or once, a package of boxer shorts that was split open with one pair given to each person. 

We would laugh and fuss at Troy all at the same time. He would give the same speech about how it was the thought that counts, right? Troy was quite the character and had a terrific sense of humor. 

No matter what, you could not stay mad at my brother Troy. He was born Oct. 20, 1977, to my parents, Ernest and Doris Good. As the baby of our family, he was just spoiled. 

My brother would show up at my apartment with a duffle bag to go “shopping” for toilet paper or other things he needed and didn’t want to buy. He had a way about him to get you on his side and win your heart no matter what. He was so charming and persuasive. He would just smile at you and it was all over. Troy wins… again! 

Troy was four years younger than me, but our birthdays were one day apart. When we were younger, my parents would buy one sheet cake for us to share. I could not stand it. I would take a knife and cut the cake in half. But as we got older, in our 20s, Troy and I grew a beautiful friendship. I enjoyed celebrating our birthdays together. Not only was he my baby brother – he had become my friend. 

Together, we could talk about everything. He would call me about the bump on his booty (lol) or to discuss his day. One of the things I miss most with him is the pep talks we would give each other as we reflected on how our year is going. 

Troy had some rough times when he was younger. He went to jail a few times, and I would always make sure to put money on his books and send him care packages. Troy had a great support system with our family while away. He would come home and be very serious about life. And I was able to watch Troy use those life lessons and become a better man. He was unstoppable once he put his mind to something. He purchased two homes debt-free.

He was a skilled carpenter and liked to work for himself. I remember when he was hired to help put the floors in at the Hilton Hotel downtown. At the time, I was working at Public Hall downtown and we could meet outside for lunch at Mall C picnic area. He was so proud of himself, and I was so proud of him.

Troy was murdered on Labor Day in 2019. He was 41 years young. Our family didn’t find out he was murdered until three days later, when he was in the morgue with a toe tag. Troy is a father of five children. He has one grandbaby he never got to meet. 

The last time I physically touched my baby brother, Troy was at the Cuyahoga County Fair in August 2019. We would go every year. It was our tradition, our thing. He would bring his kids. Our other brother would bring his kids. We’d dance and act goofy. We loved walking around and trying all the different foods. 

I would buy something like the fried Oreos or the steak on a stick. Troy would follow behind, sneaking bites as I turned my head, Lol I’d be like, “Man, buy your own.” 

It still pains me the way we lost him. He had so much life to live. He talked about God a lot during his last few months alive. I’m still trying to get up from it. I always envisioned we were all going to grow old together and help each other. Our parents raised me and my siblings to love each other. I knew after losing both my parents I would be OK with my three brothers. Now, I’m down one and it hurts. 

Rest well, Troy, until we meet again. Love you forever, your sister Wanda.

Photos by Michael Indriolo