Feliz Cumpleanos, Mi Hermano Mayor

Today is Stephen's birthday. Although he was only present the three years prior to my full cerebrum development, I will always have a unique connection with my brother. A piece of me feels indebted to Stephen; his time was spent in suffering, but my parents continued to have children, despite/because of his cruel disability. After he died, we frequented the cemetery, appropriately placed behind the little league baseball field, each year. From time to time, mainly when I was feeling particularly contemplative, I stopped by Stephen's grave. I talked about sports, recent drama, what I imagined his character to be as well as the development of my own.

I visited Stephen the night before moving to Virginia. The graveyard exuded an eerie peace, and the country air penetrated my bones as I lay gazing toward the vast, flickering canvas above. Our conversation began with me asking how things were going, if the food was as tasty as the DQ Blizzard I just ate, and if he was playing lots of baseball. I never expected a response, but I wanted him to know I cared. I then continued to reveal my fears about the upcoming transition. It was easy to convey excitement about experiencing the world from a fresh perspective to others, but really, I was petrified. What if the unknown pummeled me to the ground? What if I failed and disappointed? More than anything, how could I survive so distant from family, the unbreakable relationships on which I depended my entire life?

Today, I will take a bit of time to document the conversation were I bundled by his grave, soaking in the sweet serenity of knowing he is in a place where his agony has ceased.



Hi Stephen. You would be 26 today. While we had our tiffs during adolescence, we are quite close, our conversations riddled with sarcasm and innuendos. I imagine you a quietly successful business man, focused on finance. Soft spoken but strong, mild-tempered but fiercely witty. Striking in a suit. You have a fiance, who I was a bit skeptical about at the onset, but has grown quite lovely in my eyes. You stayed near family.

Cleveland sports are as hopeless as ever, however the Browns will keep the same starting quarterback next year which is more than a small miracle. Ohio State is also promising to have an excellent football season under the leadership of Urban Meyer. He coached Mitch, you know. You would have gotten along quite nicely with Mitch. He is an excellent fit for our family, and I am glad he married Gail.

I still miss you. I miss everyone. Man, I miss everyone so much it hurts sometimes.

Then I consider what has blessed me where I am. I miss Sunday waffles with real maple syrup and whipped cream followed by an afternoon nap serenaded by Dad's snoring, but look forward to a lazy brunch with friends, discussing everything from politics* to personal history to outlandish tales from the night prior. I miss breakfast bar conversations with Aunt Jill and Tasha until the wee hours of the morning, but I cherish the time my roommate, friends and I have spent gathered around our counter top. I miss our younger cousins, but have the opportunity to act as close kin for a small group of high school girls each Thursday. No one can replace Grandma, but I thoroughly enjoy chats with John the maintenance man who constantly reminisces on his glory days, Al from the gym who speaks of his travels with his wife, and Ken and Sherry, my recently retired neighbors whose love for one another is palpable. Though I cannot lay my head in our sister's lap after a particularly hard week, I can sit for hours with those closest to me, talking through pervasive mental blocks that can hinder growth if allowed to fester. I have found guys nearly as immature and humorous as Phil with whom I can banter; some even have comparably sized hearts. I miss the immense love of Mom and Dad, and to be honest, I have not found much close to that. I do, however, have those in my life who will stand by my side and give me a very large hug when needed most.

Indeed, Stephen, the longer I am away, the more I realize nothing will ever replace home - and I would not want it to. In that, there are those relationships that are strong, stable and fulfilling when given the opportunity and investment. That is deeply comforting.

Thank you, so much, for fighting four and a half long years. I hope you are proud of me, big brother.

*The extent of my contribution to such topics is what I inadvertently heard on the morning talk show that interrupted my music.