the day my brother died

On the day my brother died I was working at the gym. I had a few minutes between clients to make a quick call to my mom. I was in touch with her several times a day to get status updates. The one I received the previous night indicated that his vitals were good and there was no need to change my Friday flight to Texas. That was not the case on Wednesday morning. She told me that if I wanted to see him that I had better come right away. 

I hung up the phone and booked a flight for that evening. I made arrangements for Hazel to be picked up and boarded. I got changed, packed my bag and pedaled home to pack. 

The next several hours were a blur…and then I was on the ground in Austin, TX. My parents picked me up and we made a quick stop at the grocery store before heading to the house. We were half way home when my mom’s phone rang. It was Mart (Matt’s father in law). Everyone had been taking turns staying over night at the hospice. Wednesday was Mart’s night. I answered the phone...Matt’s dying you had better come right away...

I will never forget those words. 

He was already gone by the time we arrived. My mom said she had a feeling that Mart was going to be the one there with him. I had a feeling that he waited until he knew I was there with my parents. 

In many ways August 17, 2017 is more difficult than August 17, 2016. A full year of holidays, birthdays, anniversaries and memories have passed without him...365 sunsets. 

I still keep his final text on my phone...just wish we had more time...

the third month

March was a month full of sadness and it passed quickly. Usually, those days drag on without end. It is nearly the end of April and I find myself looking back, wondering where the time went.

My mom lost her best friend to pancreatic cancer. On weekends, I drove her to the hospital in Philadelphia so she could visit with her before she passed. 

She also learned that her sister’s fiancé has stage three bone cancer. Cancer is never an easy diagnosis to process, but this is the second time my aunt will have to do so. She lost her first husband to cancer several years ago.

These things are weighing heavy on my mom’s heart. I can feel it.

A few days of rain can make it seem like the sun is never going to shine again. It was late in the day when the clouds finally broke so I decided to take the long way home. Turning off of Route 70, I noticed a big ass bird (yes, that is the technical name) in the sky. It continued to fly West, the same direction I was traveling, until I lost it in the sunset.

Even though you're not here with me, you are still all around. You are in the sun, the moon and the stars at night. Thank you for letting me know that. It helped me to make it through the third month.

lessons from my little brother

It’s been two months...

I’m trying not to be angry with the people who have not been here with me. I know that you would tell me that life is too short to hold on to things. The moon was amazing last night. I thought of you during my evening walk...and it’s totally cliche, but not a day passes without a thought of you.

Thank you for teaching me...to take the day off when the weather is nice...to drive a few more miles for a good milkshake(and to not feel guilty about having it)...to live life unfiltered.

Lately I have been feeling a little bit sorry for myself because there are so many things that I want to do, but don’t have anyone to share those experiences with...and I wish you were here to offer me some advice, even though I am pretty sure I know what you would say.

We are having an Indian Summer. Luckily, I haven’t put the top back on the Jeep. I went for a ride today to check out a local brewery and ended up at the beach. This summer was so hectic, I didn’t make it down there. It’s one of those places I’ve been meaning to go. Thanks for taking the drive with me.

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.

sunset ii

I’m a morning person. It hasn’t always been that way. Maybe it started in college with early morning crew practice. 

I probably do more before 9am than most people do all day. I rarely sleep in. I never hit snooze.  

One of the things I take the greatest pleasure in is my morning bike commute to work. There is peace in the stillness. Sometimes, the only thing I can hear is my own breath. 

For as much as I enjoy the morning, I’ve never taken much interest in the sunrise. It just sort of happens while I am busy doing other things. 

On the other hand, sunset has a significant meaning to me. It began 2009 with a note from a friend (who has since passed away) that was written on a card with a picture of the sunset. 

It wasn’t just any sunset, it was a special sunset. It belonged to her friend’s father. 

Since then, I have never seen sunsets in the same way. I view them with purpose. There is sadness and beauty at the end of the day. The dichotomy suits me well.

the back of the pack

I believed in you when you didn't believe in yourself. 
I was your biggest fan but you didn't want the support. 
I loved you. You didn't love me back.

So I took my place at back of the pack... 
To wait
To watch
To realize 

There's a thin line between a fairy tale and a lie.

sunset

My mom-mom passed away in late January of 2008. After the funeral mass, my friend Neen handed me a card. On the front of it was a photo of a sunset. She went on to explain the significance of the photo. It was very special to her because it was taken the evening her friend Rob’s dad died. It was his sunset.

And these were her words:

I am not sure where or how to begin to tell you I know your pain, your loss. I know how very special your mom-mom was to you...so in this most difficult time, know that I am here for you. Embrace all her beautiful memories...hold them close. Laugh. Cry...cherish her impact on your heart, your soul, your life. And know I am here...to be your friend...to offer a hug.

This is Neen’s sunset...

She was the only friend who came to the funeral. During the months prior to my mom-mom’s passing, there were several afternoons when we would meet for tea and talk about the hurt and loss I was feeling at the time. The week after the funeral I went to her house for tea. I brought her flowers and a piece of folded up paper. The paper was the original copy of "pay it forward" something I had written and read from the altar at the funeral. Of all the words/things I have written, that is what I am most proud of....and I know that she loved me for giving it to her and I loved her for being exactly what I needed her to be during a time when I felt lost.

And so I will embrace all the memories of Neen. I will hold them close. Laugh. Cry...cherish her impact on my heart, my soul, my life.  

“That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.”

- William Wordsworth

in the blink of an eye

The whole world can change in a minute. The minute you go into the bathroom and see contact solution sitting on the sink...but she doesn’t wear contacts.

The words you’ve heard over the past four months are buzzing around in your head. And suddenly, you realize that “I don’t want to be with anyone.” really means that “I don’t want to be with you.”

You start to wonder, whether the tears she cried as you held her in your arms while she told you that she missed you, were real. You begin to doubt every I love you that came from her lips. And you realize that you will be left with more questions than answers.

And when you try to explain that you feel hurt, you are told that you're pathetic. When you try to explain that you feel taken advantage of, you are told to go away...and her life is so much better now without you in it.

It is then that you become the enemy...but it was just last week, when we were holding hands, walking down the street, laughing...but it was just last week, when we stood on the sidewalk and I kissed you goodbye as you left for work. I never thought that kiss would be our last.