He lived and he was loved.
I have some friends that haven’t known me for very long. I have some friends that have known me for what seems like forever.
Everyone that knows me should know this one thing. I have a brother and 19 years ago today he died. But more importantly, he lived. He lived and he was loved. He was loved by me and so many more. He lived and he was loved.
I want my kids to know him the way I did, but it’s been so long that I’m starting to forget.
I was snuggling with my girl the other night making funny faces and I showed her Uncle Danny’s favorite funny face. I wish so much that he was here to show her. This is the best I can do. Funny faces, funny sayings, and stories. But the memories, they fade.
I have a friend who very recently lost her own brother. We were in Vermont watching the Olympics together as Bode Miller broke down on TV about the loss of his brother. And there we were, the three of us, crying for our brothers. She and I talked for a while about our brothers. It was sad, but also nice. I think we both appreciated the space to talk about them without fear that we would upset someone or say the wrong thing. I understand her. I have been where she is.
I don’t get to talk about him much with new friends. It’s an odd thing to bring up and most just quickly move the conversation along. Fair enough.
But he is a part of the person I am today. His death is a part of the person I am today. If he had not died I would not be same person that I am right now. Had he not lived I would be no where near the person I am today. He was and is my brother.
I’m writing this not for a chorus of “I’m sorry” or “Hugs” (not that I won’t take them), but just so that you know he lived and he was loved. If you don’t know me that well maybe you didn’t know I had a brother.
Well I’m here to tell you I have a brother. His name is Daniel, Dan, Danny, Bean. He lived and he was loved.