I’ve been thinking a lot about my little brother, Michael,
who died December 30th last year.
I don’t think I’ve quite absorbed the fact that he is gone yet. I think
of him at odd times, like on Sunday evenings, when we would often call to talk
with him. And then I remember that I can’t do that anymore. Or as he said after
our dad died, that would be LONG distance. I found myself standing recently near
the entrance of HEB, our local grocery store, tears welling as I looked at the
Valentine’s Day gifts displayed near the floral section. Michael’s birthday was
February 13th, so I usually sent him a birthday and Valentine’s Day
gift at the same time. It seems to be the little things catch me off guard and trigger
the memories and the sadness.
But that’s just the background that prompted this blog post.
I want to tell you why I admired my little brother. Michael was born with brain
damage. His speech was mostly unintelligible, even to close friends and family,
though as my husband, John, said in his eulogy at Michael’s funeral, Michael
was a master of non-verbal communication. Michael looked different, and he battled
heart and mental health problems. As John said in his eulogy, Michael survived
enough health problems for four or five people. Yet he soldiered on throughout
his 55 years, overcoming obstacles that would have overwhelmed lesser folk. His
courage and endurance were amazing.
Michael was fiercely loyal to family and friends, and to his
favorite sports teams, which included those from Texas and Washington, where
his sisters live. I miss his rib-cracking hugs and his booming laugh, which became
less frequent as his health deteriorated. Michael navigated his difficult life
with grace and dignity. He was one of my heroes. Remember my brother, Michael,
the next time you are tempted to dismiss someone battling a disability. They
most likely have a lot to teach you about faith and love and endurance in the
face of this life’s unbending challenges.
Grace and Peace,
Donna
