It's not something I like to reflect about...despite the time that has passed. Eighteen years at the end of Oct. to be exact...wow, can it have really been that long? He's been gone longer than he was with us on this earth? This time of year always reminds me of my big brother, Danny. The fall. As mentioned in a previous blog entry, it is not my favorite season...his passing being a major reason why. It's bittersweet time of the year...a mourning of his passing mixed with the need to take joy in the blessings of his life. I often wonder about where life might have taken him if he were still with us.
My father wrote this attached Milestones column with the purpose of raising awareness about organ donation and I believe he could not have possibly done a better job...I know must have been a painful event to relive and retell. As a parent, I have a better understanding of what an incredible tragedy it must have been to lose a child. I wept for two days after I read it myself.
My big brother gave me the gift of running....being a senior member of the boys cross country team. When I say he gave me the gift, I mean he forced it on me (along with my father) despite my desire to do something else...anything else besides running. I despised my first day of Cross Country practice...I couldn't even run two miles. It was horrific....I really wanted to quit. But I had no choice in the matter and trudged on, slowly improving week after week. I remember the day clearly when Danny said (he always had the pleasure of driving me home after practice usually in silence typical of a teenage sibling relationship. Me=stupid freshman sister) "You know you run pretty well for a freshman, right? Well, I think you can make it the State meet, but I really think you have a shot at getting a medal at Districts too. That's a big deal for a freshman." My response...."Um, okay. Whatever..." (with an obligatory eye roll for the extra added freshman sister drama). A week later, the accident happened...much of that week is still a blur. What is still clear was the pressing emotional need I felt to continue working hard at practice despite the knowledge my brother was probably not going to pull through. I'm sure many didn't understand that decision at the time, but it was something I felt I had to continue. I ran the District meet with a photo of him tucked into my sock, along with deep seeded desire and raw emotion to give it my all and walk away with that medal he claimed was mine. I thought of him the entire race...I talked as though he was right beside me (Okay, Danny...I've gotta catch 4 more runners...) and by the end, I had accomplished what I thought was impossible. A few days later, Danny left this earth to join his Father in Heaven.
To this day, absolutely nothing has meant more to me than that 9th place medal. No state championships, no achievements & personal bests with KU Track, no Marathon and Half Marathon finishes...nothing. That prized medal was placed in his casket and the afternoon after his burial, I loaded the bus to head to the State Cross Country meet. I knew he wouldn't want it any other way. So as I continue to run in my adulthood, I think of him...especially this time of year. Thank you Danny. And I hope your right there beside me again for the next 26.2 miles. I love and miss you.
We all do.
