Eighteen Days Ago

Eighteen days ago I drove my brother Kevin home from a family party in Liberty Park, a party that I almost didn't attend. How grateful I am that I made the decision that morning that I would go to the party, despite the many other things that were demanding my time that day.

I spent the hours at that park running through the streams with my nephews and watching as my niece clung to her daddy's side. She'd much rather sit with him than play with the other kids. As a family we ate hamburgers in the shade and enjoyed each others' company. Kevin asked if I could drive him back to his residential treatment center in Provo. I was a little reluctant to leave the party early, but he had to be back by a certain time, so we took off. I remember us both hugging the kids goodbye, and that the family had to distract Madi as we left because she would cry if she saw her daddy leaving. 

Kevin sat in my passenger seat and we talked the whole way home. We talked about my house, work, and family gossip. He told me about his new friends at the place he was staying at, and how much he liked it there. He showed me a bracelet he had made with Preston and Madison's initials on it. He wore it with pride. We talked about goals and an improved future. I really believe he was happy. When I dropped him off he told me to text him the next week so he could come help with renovations at my house. 

Eight days later I got the news that Kevin had passed away in his sleep. The pain is very real and there are so many unanswered questions. The grief process is so different for each of us, but I personally have a hard time accepting that he really is gone. Sitting in the funeral home with the rest of the family, I had to keep shaking off thoughts of this whole thing being some cruel prank that Kevin was playing on us. Or that they had made a horrible, horrible mistake and had notified the wrong family. It couldn't really be MY brother. Even after the funeral I have had similar thoughts. It is so strange, so surreal that he's gone. He won't be at Christmas get-togethers. My kids won't know him. The number of the members in your family should only ever go up, not down. I've been taught my entire life that there is life after death. And I believe it. I really, really do. But the thing that has shocked me most of all is the fact that despite that wonderful, glorious fact, the pain is still raw and real. I know I haven't lost my brother forever. But I've lost him in this life, and that is hard. If I believed death was the end of a person's existence, the pain would completely drown me. I pray for people who believe that way. How sad that would be. My knowledge of God's plan has kept me from sinking. I will continue to mourn the loss of my brother in this life, but eventually I know time will ease this pain and I can look forward to reuniting with him someday. That someday, the excitement for that occasion will trump the pain of losing him. I know that not only will Kevin live again, but that right now he is somewhere so much cooler than this world, and that he is learning and progressing and growing. I also know from experiences too sacred to share on the Internet, that Kevin is happy. I am so thankful for a car ride I had eighteen days ago that I can remember as the last time I saw Kevin in this life. He was happy, and he is so much happier now.

I am sorry if this post is way too personal, or if it somehow offends someone. That is not my intention at all. It is therapeutic for me to get some of my thoughts written down, and to share them with others who might be mourning. Thank you for the love and support.

OLD picture of Kevin and I at my graduation

They both look happy in this :)

He adored his Madi

Like father, like son.

Aren't his kids ADORABLE?