21 years

 Dear Michael,

 This year marks 21 without you. It's such a strange thought...I had just turned 20 when you were killed, so as of this year I've officially lived more of my life without you here than I did with you. Somehow it's not as hard as the birthday that made me older than you, but it's definitely a strange feeling.

There's so much I wish you were here for. I wish you had met your 4 nieces and 4 nephews. I wish you could hang out on the front porch. I wish you could teach your nephew how to use his size on the basketball court. I wish you could see your niece catch black snakes. I wish I could give them all more of you than just stories and pictures. I wish they could know the real you, not the version that gets a bit glorified by your absence. I wish they could see your crooked smile in real life.

Last year, the kids had a ref during basketball season who had gone to school with you...and I was caught off guard by how old he was. I know I'm getting old (41 lets you know when it hits), but in my mind you will forever be 23. And let me tell you, that's hard to swallow. Especially as my kids get closer to that age--I've got 2 who will turn 19 this year. When people complain about getting older, I want to remind them that the alternative is far worse. I'm thankful for the years I have, for the wrinkles and the gray hair, because I'm painfully aware that there are so many people who never experience the things that come with growing older.

I miss you. It's crazy how much sometimes. It catches me off guard...a song played on the radio, or a glimpse of Conan with a haircut that makes him look more like you (though, thankfully, he doesn't have your ears...), or just the simple thought that there's something I want to tell you. I don't want to miss you. It was a lot easier to be mad at you, back at the beginning, because being mad didn't hurt. It didn't make a lump rise in my throat or tears form at the weirdest times. And I have to admit, it is somewhat infuriating that you can still make those things happen 21 years later.

Life is such a strange thing. Somehow it takes the terrible parts to make you realize the beauty of the simple parts. It takes pain to make you see joy. Your life had such an impact on the people around you, but as much as I wish it could have been different, that we could have had a miraculous story of God's protection in Iraq, He has used your death in such a beautiful way over the last 21 years. It has been a pretty amazing thing to see.

I'm so thankful that our goodbye here on this side of eternity is just a temporary thing. I can't imagine facing that pain, bearing that grief with no hope of the future. I wouldn't trade a single day I'm blessed with here on earth, but I know that you're waiting for me just like you always did when we were growing up. And I've told you before, though I'll probably punch you for leaving me behind, I'll hug your neck right after.

I love you, big brother.