One Week, One Year Ago

I have already put a lot of thought into this post. How to start, how much to include, how to get through it? You see, one year ago, this past week held both the worst day and one of the best days of my life. On July 3, my brother passed away at the age of 28, leaving a wife, four kids, and an extremely tight knit family behind. To say that we were devastated is an understatement. The only boy in a family of four children, my brother held the esteem of all of his sisters, as well as mom and dad. Brady was the neutral ground in a family high on emotion. He never picked sides, never argued with us, and was willing to play just about anything. He welcomed people into the family with no judgement and could not contain his excitement when he had plans with any one of us. His pride for his family was written all over him. His heart, definitely his heart, is his legacy. July 8, one day before his funeral, Jameson and I had come home from staying with mom and dad for a shower and to grab clothes. I began packing my things when suddenly my attention was drawn to that little cardboard box holding "the stick." I kept packing but for some reason could not stop looking back to it. I had had no inclination until that point that I was pregnant but for some reason felt that I needed to be sure. Warning Jameson not to come upstairs, I figured I was being ridiculous as I unwrapped the test and took a seat. Two minutes later my world was, for the second time that week, rocked to the core. I could hardly breathe when that faint, second pink line appeared. I immediately called for Jameson to be sure that I was not seeing things. After seeing the look on my face and verifying what I thought I had seen, we could only stare at each other, no words. Jameson started laughing as I quickly repeated "I dont think so, no, its not right." One quick trip to Walgreens and two tests later, we had three sets of double pink lines. I still doubted, but Jameson was certain from that first test that our family had started to grow. I now wonder if I truly doubted or was I trying to protect myself from the disappointment were it not? Needless to say, it was certain and Jameson and I both believe Brady had something to do with our surprise. Later as we were discussing names and had chosen Lucille as an option, I learned what her name meant; "Light." Nothing could alleviate the pain or repair the hole losing Brady has caused. But what learning about Lucille did do was provide hope, a light in the darkness of loss. It taught me to keep living, keep loving, and have the same pride in our family that Brady did. Lucille will never meet her Uncle Brady, something I have struggled to accept countless times throughout pregnancy and since her birth, but she will know him through the stories, pictures, and memories our family continues to cling to. As dad prayed on Thanksgiving last year, "Thank you God for the 28 years we got to have with Brady."