What I said...

If someone were to ask my twelve year old self to name one thing that I have in common with my brother I’d be hard pressed to give a response. Even in my early twenties I’d struggle to answer that question.

Matt was intelligent, musically inclined and athletic...fashionable, good looking and popular...he was everything I was’t.

We became closer with age. From girls to guns, yoga to camping we learned that we had much more in common than our dislike of cheese (except of course, on pizza).

In August of 2012 we had the opportunity to share our mutual love for the outdoors, spending 10 days together at Glacier National Park. The memories we made on that trip are held close to my heart. 

Three months later, Matt had an emergency appendectomy and was diagnosed with cancer.

We kept in touch through emails, text, phone calls and visits. 

This year on his birthday I even sent him a good old fashioned letter...

If you’re reading this then that means I actually sent it.

Today is your birthday. Hopefully it was a better day for you than last year, which you spent in the hospital.

I’m glad that we had a chance to talk the last time I visited. It seems like you have made some sort of peace with your diagnosis. Perhaps that isn’t the best choice of words, but it’s all that comes to mind right now. You are doing the best you can with the hand you have been dealt. I admire you for that.

When we were growing up you were the fragile one. Mom always felt the need to protect you. Now, all I can see is your strength...and I am sure that I don’t even know half of what you have been through the last three and a half years.

The other day someone asked me how I was doing with all of this. Honestly, I haven’t processed it yet. I know that I worry about Mom and that my heart aches for Cliff...but I also know that the time we have right now is a gift...an opportunity to you show just how much I love you.

Keep fighting.

I made no attempt to conceal the emotional roller coaster our family has been on for the past four years. The journey has been well documented with titles such as “no peace” “pain cave” and “life, unfiltered.”

Life, unfiltered...this was the way Matt lived. He did not allow his diagnosis to define him. It was important for him to stay active and to keep working. 

His outlook was embodied in the words of one of my favorite quotes by Vivian Green, "Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass...it’s about learning to dance in the rain."

And now, for the unscripted part...

Matthew passed away peacefully late on the night of August 17th. The next day I asked my friends to watch the sunset with me and to share a photo of that sunset. I received close to 150 pictures from about 20 different states and created a slideshow (below). 

I have grown tired of hearing the words "I am sorry for your loss" because I did not lose anything. Matthew is still here with me. I see him in the setting sun each night.