One Year Later

This past year has been a rollercoaster to say the least. This situation is one that I could’ve never imagined in a million years and it completely changed everything about me.

When the pandemic started, my job shut down for an unknown amount of time, so I decided to come spend some time in Dixon. At the time, I wasn’t very happy about the world shutting down, but looking back I’m so grateful that I got that time at home. I can think of those memories and it’s like I’m really in that moment again; which is both comforting and really hard. That’s a feeling that I’ve become used to this year — something being both happy and sad. My brother brought nothing but joy into my life, and thinking of those memories still brings me that same joy, but it’s hard to realize that I don’t get any more of them. One of my favorite memories from that time is when Riley was driving us around to get his practice hours in. I offered to buy us some Taco Bell and he said that he wasn’t really hungry but he would have a drink. Already, I was shocked because the old Riley would’ve never turned down getting food. Then, I asked him if he had driven through a drive-thru before — he assured me that he had.

We get there, get our food, and as we’re pulling away he says,

“Actually, that was my first drive-thru.”

I’m cracking up and I tell him how scared I was to go through a drive-thru for the first time, and how I avoided it for a few months even after getting my license. We tried the freezes we got and he said that his tasted really bad. I tried it and it really did taste weird. I offered him mine, and he declined it saying that he would drink his anyway. I love this memory because it really showcases everything that I love about my brother. He tackles things head-on — I didn’t go through a drive-thru for months after I got my license because I had no confidence in my driving abilities, and trying new things has always been hard for me. But, Riley did it while he only had his permit; his confidence in himself and his abilities was something I’ve always admired about him. I also couldn’t believe how much he was maturing. Not only did he not get food just because we were there, he also refused to let me take care of him. Instead of taking my drink, he just suffered through the one that he got, and just laughed it off instead of getting upset. I can’t really describe how proud I was in that moment, but if you have children or younger siblings you can probably imagine. Another day, my dad, Riley, and Cristian drove up to Rockford and were going to bring us back the new Popeye’s sandwiches. I hadn’t been feeling very well that day, but after taking a few bites of the sandwich I started feeling much worse. Everyone went to bed and Kris was sleeping next to me on the couch. I started feeling like I was going to throw-up so I called up the stairs to Riley. He came down and I asked him to carry Kris into my parents room.

When he picked him up, Kris started to wake up and Riley calmed him down by saying,

“Come on, let’s go, sissy doesn’t feel good.”.

He came back and asked me what was wrong, and then said it’s probably because it’s so hot in here and opened up the window. That was the first and last time my brother got to take care of me when I was sick. After so many years of taking care of him and making sure he was ok, these times of him taking care of me means so much because it meant my baby brother was growing up.

My very last normal memory that I have with my brother happened about a week or so before that terrible day. I was sitting outside of my apartment watching Tik Toks and I got a call from a person that I work with. He told me that the Roses Imanbek remix came on the radio and all he could think about was the Big Rig. I had just shown him, and pretty much everyone else I know, the Tik Tok that Riley made recreating the dance to that song because it’s hilarious and I love it. I hung up with him and called Riley, who didn’t answer. He called me back like a minute later and I asked what he was doing — of course he was playing video games. I told him that my friend heard that song on the radio and all that came to mind was you and your Tik Tok. I said something like,

“You made it, it’s official!”.

We laughed and I told him I loved him and I’d talk to him later. We may have said some other things, but, of course, I don’t remember every word because never, in a million years, would I think that was the last phone call. I could write an entire book about my memories and thoughts about my brother, but the overall picture was that he was growing up. My little baby brother was becoming a more mature person. I could see him realizing his responsibilities in this world to both himself and to others. Being his big sister, I always tried to put forth the best example I could for him and all of my siblings. I pretty much based my entire identity around being a good big sister, and seeing it finally seem to be having an effect on him — I was elated. And then, it all came crashing down.

I’ve struggled with being happy for a long time, and I was always looking to external factors to give me that peace and happiness that I wanted so badly. I threw myself into being a good role model, big sister, daughter, employee, tenet, coworker, friend, but this just left me feeling empty because I was basing my self-worth off of other people. I never really stopped and tried to just be good to me and for me. I moved away hoping that finally getting a job and getting started in the “real world” would finally make things fall into place. Just hoping that it would give me some motivation to start living, and I would make all these friends, find the perfect job, and everything would work out simply by me doing what I thought I should be doing. The problem was that I didn’t really want to be doing those things. I didn’t, and still don’t, really know what makes me happy or what direction I want to take my life. Losing my brother gave me this fork in the road where I was either going to continue falling down until I got to a place where I wouldn’t be able to come back, or I could start fighting my way up. The second I got that call from my sister, I thought that this was going to be the final excuse I needed to just give up because I was already right on the edge anyway. When the doctors gave us the final news that there was no hope of him recovering, it was the hardest moment of my life. I looked at the computer screen with a photo of my brother’s brain on it — thinking of all of the amazing thoughts and ideas and memories and emotions and plans and stories and jokes and Tik Toks and Youtube videos and wrestling moves — just locked in there that we would never get to know about. I looked up at the ceiling to try to maintain some composure, walked back over to his bedside, and picked up his hand. When I finally looked down at him, it all came rushing at me. It’s a feeling that you can never imagine until you feel it, and even then no two people will ever experience it the same way. People have a unique relationship with everything around them. That’s what’s so hard — I’ll never get another Riley. The experiences and jokes and good times that I was supposed to have with him are gone forever. It’s a realization that hits me like a ton of bricks about once a week, and it still feels exactly the same. But, honestly, as hard as that time was, I would go back and relive it over and over if I could because I could still see him and touch him and just knowing that I had talked to him a week ago was so comforting. Now, with every day that passes, the last time I saw him gets farther away and it doesn’t really make anything easier, instead, it just makes me miss him even more. I am happy to say, though, that instead of allowing myself to continue falling — I took the other trail. During that time, and on some days still, I feel that hopelessness and sadness and exhaustion — it’s physically painful and scary. It made me realize that I didn’t want to continue down that path because I could see how easily I would be trapped, and so I started going to therapy. I figured I had tried to do it on my own, I had tried to find happiness myself, and had failed immensely. And, now, I had this horrible thing that was threatening to pull me down forever, so I finally asked for help. It was the best choice I ever made. I realized that I needed to stop looking to outside sources for my happiness and peace — I needed to focus on myself. I’ve been seeing my therapist for about 8 months, and the progress I’ve made already has literally been life changing. I’m grateful that I was able to find an affordable place, and that I matched perfectly with the first person I talked to. I’ve decided to use this tragedy to make some positive changes because that’s exactly what my brother’s memory deserves. He would never want me, or anyone he knows for that matter, to simply give up because of what happened. It was that realization that helped me to get over my guilt for continuing to live my life. If the tables were reversed I knew that I would haunt him so bad if he was doing what I was, so I turned it around. I still have hard minutes, hours, and days, but I don’t have bad months and years anymore. I wake up everyday knowing my brother is right there cheering me on, just like I always did for him, and I don’t want to let him down.

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