#bandanastrong

[micah68riseabove-blog]

The Story

So, it’s been a year since I last had a conversation with my brother. He had called me around 12:30 on a Thursday night, which is odd. I hadn’t been sleeping well and took a look at my phone around 4 a.m. to see the missed call. So I called him back and left a message. Feeling worried I struggled to fall back to sleep. I finally gave up and had my coffee around 5:30 and then proceeded with my normal morning of getting the kids off to school. I hustled to get ready for a day of chaperoning at BizTown for Joe’s 5thgrade field trip. Still feeling worried I shot a text to Houston and called my Mom to see if anything was up. Unsure of why he had called, my mom said everything seemed to be okay. He was downstairs sleeping.

I periodically checked my phone throughout the day and finally got a text from Houston, upon his waking. He had the privilege of sleeping until his heart desired (insert eye-roll emoji here). Remember it was because of him that I’d been up since the 5 o’clock hour. He reassured me that he had just called to talk. My response was, “you really thought I’d be up after midnight, on a school night?” LOL We talked as I drove home from BizTown. We talked about everything. He had some concerns about our Dad. We talked openly about his struggle with addiction and he reassured me that he was doing well and taking good care of himself. He asked about the kids and my job and lots of things that other people don’t always take the time to ask me about. I even pulled over when I got close to home to make sure I could soak up the conversation, as these phone calls were rare. We said, ‘goodbye, I love you and can’t wait to see you next weekend.”

Well the next weekend came, President’s Day weekend, and we were supposed to head up for a visit. Life happens, ya know and Joe and I came down with the flu. The type of flu where nothing stays down and you don’t move much from the couch. We were down for the count so our visit was off. I still to this day think, “why?” Why in the world were we kept from visiting that weekend? I’ll never quite understand. Tony comforts me and says, “who knows, maybe you would have gotten into a fight or disagreement of some kind…maybe God was protecting you from things ending badly between the two of you.” It’s hard to imagine because we did get along so well, but I try to find peace in his suggestions. Some days it’s oh so hard…especially now as President’s Day weekend is again approaching. I find myself leaning towards anger again…anger that I didn’t get that last visit in.

One week after having the flu I went in to coach my Sunday Funday crew. I remember the morning so well…it was a power day (my favorite type of workout to coach). I even got to take some brag board pictures with a few of our dearest members. I headed out the door feeling great about the morning and called Tony to make sure he had Joe ready for baseball tryouts. I could hear something different in his voice and he told me to just come home. He said that we wouldn’t be going to tryouts and he’d explain at home. My mind was racing. I thought “oh my word, what the heck did those boys do.”

When I walked through the door Tony grabbed my phone, afraid someone else would call or text with the news. The boys, along with their cousin Hayden were up in Joe’s room. All they were told was to pack their suitcases…we’re going to Grandma’s for the week. They had no idea what had happened.

Tony proceeded to walk me down the stairs to the basement and as soon as we got down the steps, he said, “I’m so sorry to tell you, but your brother is dead.”

I immediately collapsed and screamed and cried louder and longer than anything I’ve ever heard. I collected myself at one point just enough to ask him if he was sure, how do you know. I had so many questions running through my head. He told me what he knew and once I calmed down a bit we knew it was time to tell the kids. Talk about nerves and emotions like you’ve never felt...Oh boy.

We called the boys down (Stella was at my sisters), sat by their sides and told them the hardest news they had ever heard in their young lives. They cried, asked questions, we hugged and held each other and from there I just didn’t know what to do. All I knew is that I couldn’t get to my parents and sisters fast enough.

In come our dear friends who took our dog, helped us pack and get out the door, Tony drove in what seemed like the longest trip of my life. A few hours later we got to my parents house where it was filled with people. I immediately hugged Dad and we just sobbed. I finally found my mom and hugged and cried with her as well.

When I say that my parents house was filled with people…I mean it. Standing room only with people showing their love and support. They brought homemade food all week long. My cousin even had to bring a third refrigerator over to store all the goodies brought our way. There were moments of laughter, uncontrollable tears and consoling, singing, reading and sometimes just mind-numbing silence as we all asked “why? What did you do Houston? This can’t be true. This cannot be our new reality.

Well, it is. We are approaching the one-year mark of Houston being gone. It’s by far been the toughest thing we have all gone through. I loved him so much. We shared a room from his birth until I turned thirteen and we had a special bond. To live without him is like an amputation. A part of me is gone and will never be back on this earth again. We all have to learn to live without him and to learn to live with the pain that his absence brings. It’s a pain that will never go away. It’s a pain that changes you. It takes determination and strength, day after day to put our best foot forward and live the best life we can without him here. He was special, one-of-a-kind.

As I write this, tears stream down my face in remembrance of that turmoil. Hearing the finality of “he’s gone” still hurts. The weeping and wailing of my parents will never leave my mind. Watching all 10 kids grow up in an instant through the reality of death is just heartbreaking

February will most likely always be my least favorite month and I’ll try to hurry through it, but at the same time, I refuse to let it own me. I will not allow myself to fall into depression. I will show up day after day and shine whatever light I may have in me. That is God, my friends. It is the strength of God that gives us the energy to carry on for each other. So February, you can suck it, cuz you’ve got nothing on us as a family.

[joeyostrander]

I scaled a craggy peak near #Hafelekarspitze over #Innsbruck in the #Nordkette mountain range to snap this rare shot of myself and the #NaturParkKarwendel at 7k+ft [____________________] #mountainman #bandanastrong #sonya7iii #sel28f20 #austria #osterreich #milleniumfalcon #wanderung #hiking #summit #peak #mountainrange #bluesky (at Hafelekarspitze) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2cCItWFKiW/?igshid=mfh1wyj0n8e9

[micah68riseabove-blog]

Holidaze

Joy, peace, cheer are all words we see and hear quite often in the month of December. I am one to always love the positive words and vibes that come with the holiday season. I’ve also always tried to emulate them throughout the rest of the year.

2018 is different for me. I have had tremendous amounts of joy and cheer with family and wonderful friends that have come along beside me through the toughest year of my life, but there is a lingering sadness that looms underneath. I can’t help but think of my brother and how his life ended way too soon. This tragedy has broken me open. In a good way. I hate that such an awful thing had to happen to awaken me the way it has. I actually prayed in January of last year, asking God to awaken my soul as I was feeling very much like I was just going through the motions. I didn’t mean for that to happen through tragedy, but unfortunately that’s what brought about the awakening I feel I have experienced.

My priorities have shifted. I realize how precious one day can be. I try to leave people on a good note. I try to resolve anger quickly and not hold on to pain.

All of that being said I wish I would have been better before my brother died. I wish I would have slowed down and listened to him more. I wish I would have visited more and just sat with him and asked him questions about his life and his thoughts.

Please this holiday season...slow down, have fun, but also talk about meaningful things. Don’t live life on the surface...dig in, open up and get real with the ones you love. Say “Merry Christmas” to strangers. Smile at them, hug them even, because you have the power within you to make others better, which in turn will make you better and it will make our world better.

Don’t live with an “I wish.”

Merry Christmas.

#bandanastrong

[micah68riseabove-blog]

NOT sorry

Here I go again folks. You guys are my outlet, my listening ear, my friend, whether you want to be or not. I’m physically tired at the moment, which seems to mean my emotions are heightened. You may see me laugh hysterically at something that’s really not that funny or you may see me hide it all inside with a furrow in my brow. You may see me coaching or walking the dog or getting groceries and I appear to be my normal self, but…alone, I weep. When the house is quiet and empty and my soul feels void, I weep. I cry like I just found out that my brother is gone. I’m not sure if everyone deals with death the same way that I am right now, but this is me. Houston was a special person, a true light and it is extremely hard to fathom many more years here on earth without him.

I have faith, I do. I trust God but right now it is so hard to see the path ahead and so hard to trust that His plan is being played out. I have moments of light and clarity, but boy are they fleeting.

Here’s the thing about this grief, this sorrow. It’s extremely hard to “move on.” When I’m in a good mood or laughing and having a good time it scares me. I’m afraid that I am forgetting my brother and the horrible tragedy we all experienced. Even though I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he wants me to be happy and carry on about my life there is something about it that almost feels wrong. So when things are fun, I find myself pulling back a bit. I get a little too serious and over-think things. I get anxious when we are going out with friends. I want so badly to enjoy myself, and most of the time I do, but when the fun is over I find myself feeling sadder than when the day began.

I never want to forget my brother, but I find it hard to talk about him in the past tense. He was handsome, he was kind and sweet unlike any other grown man I’ve met. The “was” just seems to permanent, but I guess that’s part of acceptance. We have to accept the things we cannot change. He is gone but I will always fight for his legacy to live on. So don’t tell me to let him rest in peace. Don’t tell me that we all need to move on. You stare grief in the face the way I am right now and then see how easy it is to say those words.

I will honor him with how I live my life. So I have to make a mental shift to lay down the worry and sadness and relax, slow down, cherish and enjoy moments. I will live fuller, laugh harder and love deeper and for that, my friends, I am NOT sorry and never will be.