It’s been a year.

March 18th 2013 my brother Michael fell asleep and died. 
A year of traditions, holidays and random days without him all checked off and acknowledged.  Each day serving as a stepping stone or checkpoint towards getting us closer and passed the anniversary of his death. Getting through and getting passed has been somewhat of a mantra for me this year as I know that the first round of these days will potentially get easier in the years to come. Supposedly time heals pain.  
A year of reflection and honoring my brother the way we probably should honor each other in life and not just in death.  A year of grabbing the phone to text or call him to share something funny or relay a story that only Michael would be able to appreciate or relate to. A year of laughing to myself when I hear something that he would love to hear, knowing that the story or joke starts and ends with me because nobody else would understand.  A year of sadness attached to that internal laugh. A year of knowing that the only other person that knows the details to a story that we both lived is dead and because of that, many of those stories will die too. A year of being lonely and longing for brotherhood.  A year of missing his calls reminding me that my sister is “a fucking genius” (something he would say after he argued with her). A year of having to pause a movie because he had a knack for calling just as it starts.  A year of hearing songs and having them influence me emotionally because of a memory attached to that song or the lyrics apply to my brother in some way. A year without the stress and sometimes anger that comes with being Michael’s brother. 
A year of feeling pity from others. A year of having to answer the question of “how many brother and sisters do you have” with the shortest answer possible in an effort to keep from bringing the room down about having 2 dead brothers. A year of trying to find humor in it all, without coming across as jaded, scarred or emotionally disconnected. A year of reestablishing relationships with people who came back into my life because of Michael’s death.  A year of learning new things about my brother, through the stories told by others. 
The days. He didn’t call on either of the kid’s birthdays, my birthday or any holiday this year. No call to reminder me to sing the “Valentine’s day song” to mom.  No call in November to remind me that today would have been Jimmy’s birthday.  St. Patrick’s Day marks the last time I heard his voice, a voicemail left early in the morning that I deleted after hearing, not knowing that this would have been the last time I would have ever had a chance to talk to him.  When you lose those days and moments in your life, you start to realize how much you should have appreciated them. Reflection and hind sight is a bitch sometimes, ain’t it?  
I spent the past year trying to dig a little deeper into who I am.  I spent the year trying to help heal myself and the others around me. A year of trying to apply a fresh perspective on what really matters in life and what things are real. A year of being desensitized about some things in life, but hyper sensitive to other events.  I wrote a book.  Established a stronger relationship with my niece. I saw the best in some people. Became more honest and made fewer excuses for who I am. I allowed the honest and beautiful things about my brother effect me in a positive way and spent less time beating myself up about things beyond my control. 
Even though March 18th will go down as one of the worst days of my life and the following 12 months were beyond difficult, I do believe that I spent my time wisely and productively. No amount of gained knowledge, appreciation or reflection is worth the price of a life and the toll that the loss took on my family and friends, but I can honestly say that I didn’t squander my time because of it. Being down sucks and I prefer to raise my hands and fight back.  I appreciate my life and the people in it and I enjoy and celebrate my experiences and new stories with more enthusiasm than before. 
Here comes round 2. Ring the bell. 
Listen to the podcast version here:

chasemradio

Radio Imagineer and host. Texan, Blogger, Author, Father of 2 awesome kids, husband to Christal and driver of a 1965 Chevy truck. Author of Pull The Trigger and #Tryharder.

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