Six Months

When Carlos arrived home from work on October 9th, 2013 he walked inside, his face stricken with pain. I immediately asked him what was wrong, and he said we needed to sit down. I remember him frantically guiding me to the couch, his hands holding mine. We sat together while the words seemed to take forever to come.

Finally, he said "Anna, David died."

My heart stopped. My breath was taken from me. 

Immediately I replied, "David, David who??" 

Carlos replied, "David, your brother." 

The memory of the gut-wrenching "NO" that exclaimed from my mouth moves me to tears as I write this. The violent opposition that I felt to losing my brother was instantaneous. 

It is all a haze after that: talking to my parents, speaking with my siblings, frantically packing my suitcase and that horrific 4 hour drive home to Iowa. It was a nightmare, a tragic seemingly never-ending nightmare. 

Now, 6 months later I sit on that same couch and reflect. 6 months later I'm working at a new job, newly accepted to graduate school, doing projects around our apartment, and preparing for my aunt's wedding. It has been 6 months since losing David, and somehow I've begun to live again. 

It's ironic because I know that the Anna I was October 9th, is so very different from the Anna that I am today. When David died, a piece in all who loved him also died. When I lost my brother, I lost myself. 

This is grief. This is true loss. It is the most intimate un-veiling of who you are. Everything is stripped away and you must decide how to re-build. It's an opportunity for re-birth and renewal, in a beautiful sense it is your loved ones parting gift, until you meet again. 

I can never be who I used to be and when I try to describe how I am different, I really can't. Maybe I'm more serious, more introspective, more mindful or conscientious? I also feel more appreciative, creative, loving, and hopeful. 

What I do know is that I'm more sure of myself now than I was then. I know what is important to me, and recognize the necessity to show appreciation. David's death has challenged me to be better. 

David's absence in our world has highlighted his presence in my heart. 

Today I close with the message of a incredibly beautiful person: my, and David's, mother. The following thoughts have been adapted from a letter written by Ram Dass to his friends who lost their child to a violent death.

"For David's family and dear friends,

David finished his work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of peace a midst the screaming noise of their grief, horror and desolation.

I cannot take away your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is David's legacy to you. Not that he or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.

Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to David, and thank him for the time you shared, and encourage him to go on with whatever his work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience.

In my heart, I know that you and he will meet again. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was.

Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts– if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way. David came to all who love him here to do his work on earth, which includes his manner of death. Now his soul is free, and the love that you can share with him is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space.

'We feel that this piece - with its core message - was brought to our attention just in time to share for the six month anniversary of the world's great loss of David. Many times and in many ways we have felt that David is walking beside us on this journey. We pray that God will continue to hold us all as we go forward.

Love,
Val Lucas - David's Mom'"

Thank you to my Mom for sharing this beautifully impactful message. 

David's place in my heart is sending love to all his loved ones tonight. 

  

'A note to my friend, David' by Justin Ungs

When I first made "Loving David" public, I invited all David's friends and family, or anyone who felt inspired, to author and share a guest post. It's been a few months now and last night I was sent my first submission. Like many things lately, this came at the perfect time. While it is therapeutic and rewarding for me to process, write, and share my thoughts and feelings, I feel a great sense of relief when someone else shares theirs with me. Without any further introduction, I share a beautiful reflection from one of David's wonderful friends.

A note to my friend, David.

By Justin Ungs

I had known David since about 7^th grade, starting as small-town baseball competitors. We became friends in high school, and closer friends in college where we lived, worked, and learned together. We took spontaneous road trips, he tried to make me a better tennis player, we both worked at the local hardware store, and very much looked forward to the weekend activity.    

Most recently, I had lived just minutes from his new place in Minneapolis. I was eager to once again be close to David, beyond our routine Skype updates.

I recall one of the very first of his Sundays in Minneapolis; we grabbed lunch then headed to the lake for a stroll. We talked about a lot of things, about everything; chatter that took us the 3 miles around the lake. Because it was such a nice day, there were lots of people swimming. I remember David saying he wasn’t sure if he would fit in since seemingly “every guy” had a 6-pack. I then reminded him who he was standing next to, disqualifying his sentiment.

During the walk he talked about all that he was looking forward to; how excited yet nervous he was for class, how he was looking forward to starting something new and meeting loads of new people. And I spoke how I was so looking forward to having him around again.

In the course of his short tenure in Minneapolis we had done a lot: rode bikes, went to clubs, watched Iowa football games, bonfires, spoke politics, tried new cuisines, went to movies, the fair, and laid around on Sunday afternoons while he did laundry at my place. It was like we were back in college, just getting back from class, not having even a single minute pass by. We were always able to pick up right where we left off.

One thing I'll always cherish, no matter what life sends, is the memory of us just being friends.

David,

A broken shadow

How I can sometimes relate

Life is hard

For you, it just could not wait

That night of darkness

It shook us all

Although the first end for us

For you, an earlier call

I am sad to no longer see you

Your walk. Laugh. And zest

While you were here

It was the best

And now we move on

With new forms of you

You’re no longer with us

How we once knew

Your physical being

No longer here

But your energy and spirit

Still everywhere

We’re somehow closer

And live through your spirit

You brighten my day

And bring strength to it

I often ask

What would David do?

It brings me joy

And memory of you

I still sometimes cry

Because you’re no longer near

We had so much to do

You just got here

We need your help

Continue to guide us

Stay by our side

With hope, we progress

I cannot wait

To see you again

You will always be

My great friend

Until the day

We meet again

Let’s stay connected

This is not our end

Brothers are Forever

February 12th, 2010 David celebrated his 24th birthday in Iowa City. His actual birthday was February 21st but he had a special event at his school in West Branch so he planned his festivities a little early.

My parents came to Iowa City and we all went out to eat for pizza at Herb and Lou's (probably the only bar/restaurant in West Branch!) Carlos was coincidentally at Herb and Lou's (he had arrived in Carlos time: 1 hour early!) We all enjoyed talking: Mom, Dad, David, Carlos and I. David was excited to see his many friends who were coming to watch him play in a staff vs. students basketball game and he had planned a get-together after the game to celebrate his birthday.

David was the coordinator for student government and he had organized the basketball event at West Branch. I didn't know anyone playing except David but that was enough to be thoroughly entertained! David was entertaining in everything he did. He also liked to be the center of attention so he knew how to captivate an audience! I should also say, David was really good at basketball!

David warming up for the game!

After the game, we said good bye to our parents and I rode with David to my apartment. He took a quick shower and I changed my clothes. I remember asking him if I looked okay, he always said the same response, "Yes, you look really nice." It's funny looking back on this now because I later learned how nervous he was for me to be meeting his friends. His fear was that I would date them, even worse, marry them! That night I had a high-neck dress on that went down to my knees. Perfect for David!

David and I walked downtown to meet up with his friends. It was a little awkward for me at first but David tried to make me feel welcome. He was so sweet to me. Eventually, while David was talking to other friends, Carlos struck up conversation. We ended up hitting it off! We talked on and off the whole night, and I knew that there was something really special about him.

Fast forward a few years: (I'm skipping the transition period when David acclimated to my dating his best friend, and lots of other good memories in between!) Carlos and I were engaged to be married. Carlos not only talked to my parents before proposing, he also asked for David's blessing!

As soon as we began making wedding plans last fall, I thought of asking David to give a toast at our wedding. David knew us both best. He knew me as his sister and friend, and Carlos as his friend and sister's boyfriend! I told David we would love it if he gave a toast, but only if he wanted to. I told him we wanted to include him because he played such an important role in our relationship and he was so important to each of us.

This summer, David moved back from Colombia. I can still remember him telling me he was coming back early so he could help with the wedding. He also brought back up his wedding "speech." I was a little nervous and said, "Speech? Well, I thought it would be nice to give a toast." If David was doing something, he did it all the way! He told me he had already written his wedding speech and I laughed. I said my only requirement was that it came from his heart and was written with love. I was a little nervous about what David might say in his "speech." He was a little hurt about this and ensured me that he would say nothing less than loving.

David spoke of our relationship growing up and the way we'd become close as adults. He shared memories of him and Carlos in high school and beyond as best friends. He told us how happy he was for us, and that he thought we were perfect for each other. The way David said this was so genuine, it made me cry.

The last line of his speech was, "At first when Anna and Carlos began dating I was sad to lose a best friend, but now I see that I gain a brother. The thing is, best friends come and go, but brothers are forever."

David was, of course, directing this to Carlos, but now I think of these words often: "Brothers are forever." 

David was an integral person in Carlos and my relationship. He means so much to both of us: individually and together. I never in a million years imagined that he wouldn't share life with us.

This makes me really sad. I miss him for all we had, and all that we would have had.

I am counting on heaven because I need more time with my brother David, preferably forever.

Missing and loving David J.

Result of a Loss

When I was a teenager, I had a phase when I questioned what it would be like if I died. I wondered who would care, and what would happen. I didn't have self-destructive behaviors, but knew plenty of classmates who did. There were times when I felt I would rather die.

I didn't see the point of life's hardship. The circus of striving and achieving, only to realize there was more work to do. The never-ending game of trying to be better. Our culture's way of seeing more as better, nothing ever good enough.

A lot of these things bothered David, too. How could some people in the world endure a life of suffering, while others live one of luxurious ignorance? Why do some struggle to have their basic needs met, while others go about with an excessive lifestyle?

For me, I found my happy medium somewhere in the grey area. I seek a healthy balance of moderation and simplicity. I try to be aware of my blessings, and do what I can to turn these privileges for good.

David was similar although I don't know that it ever came easy to him. I witnessed a constant distress regarding the injustices of the world. There was an ever-present anxiety about the rat race of life. He continually was striving for better, and I'm not sure he ever felt it was good enough.

When his second episode of depression returned after believing the first was triggered by environmental factors, I believe David was terrified.

He didn't fit the mold for someone who would be depressed. In fact, depression was so opposite David that I now wonder if he struggled with it more than we knew. It's possible he struggled with it more than even he knew.

Maybe his tendencies for depression pushed him to fight with opposite characteristics. Instead of laying in bed all day, David would busy himself with activity. His mind and body were always working: reading, exercising, socializing, etc; David was go-getting and life-loving.

I believe the second episode caught him off guard, with his defenses down. So overwhelmingly painful, it was impossible for him to see outside of it. I think that David felt helpless. No matter how proactive he was: working out every day, eating right, being social, etc. the depression could still come and knock him off his feet.

Maybe he couldn't see the point. David lost sight of all he had done, all he had, and could only see the illness. It was all-encompassing and he was hopeless.

In a book I am reading, No Time to Say Goodbye, the author writes that suicide is often the result of a loss. For some it might follow a separation from spouse, loss of a job, etc. but for many it is the loss of the will to fight.

I empathize with David's feelings: he didn't deserve his illness, and yet he had it. It pains me to think of his pain and fear. As much as is possible, I understand his despair.

In a way, my grief is selfish. I know that he has found peace, yet I am here talking about my great loss.

I am thankful that David does not feel the pain anymore. I am thankful that he does not have to live in fear of another episode knocking him to the ground. I am thankful for his fight and his example. Most of all, I love him. I will always love him.

Post-Thanksgiving

We made it through the first holiday. Our Thanksgiving weekend was filled with many emotions: highs and lows.

I haven't had Thanksgiving with David for the last two years. While he was living in Colombia, he came back for a long Christmas break. That probably made the days go easier than they would have otherwise, it's so easy for me to still think that David is in Colombia.

Despite this, there were still many tear-triggers. The first was seeing my husband and his two brothers talking together. I have never thought about Carlos being one of three brothers. It caught me completely off-guard.

The second was seeing a pumpkin pie. David LOVED pumpkin pie. He claimed in was his favorite. Now, if it really was his favorite or if he just was buttering up my Grandma I don't know. Either way, she eventually began making David his own personal-sized pumpkin pie each Thanksgiving. The love for her precious third child (third-born in the family like her) materialized in a miniature-sized pumpkin pie. David loved it! He would proudly polish the entire thing off, satisfying my Grandma with every bite!

These two triggers were ones I had not considered. Others I had prepared for and were not as affected by.

Spending time with my family is difficult. It's painful not to be with them, and it's painful to be with them. Everyone is grieving and feeling their individualized pain. We need to be gentle with each other, at a time when we are raw. Though there are difficult moments, I am thankful for this time. Each of our worlds have been turned upside down. There is no one who is able to understand my personal relationship with David or my mothers, fathers, etc. but we can most closely empathize with each other's loss.

I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is over and though I am not looking forward to Christmas like in years passed, I am looking forward to it in a different way. I am anxious to be reunited with my entire family, hug them, and make new memories together.

A thanksgiving-related memory:

Thanksgiving break my Freshman year of college, David invited me over to his apartment in Iowa City. He picked me up, we made a frozen pizza, and watched a movie. At the time David was making his way through a list of the top 100 movies of all time so we checked one off the list. I don't remember which it was. The entire night David was such a gentleman and made me feel really special. After the movie, he drove me back to my dorm. This was our first brother-sister date and served as the changing point in our relationship. I will forever treasure this memory.

One Conversation

David called my phone on October 8th at 12:58 pm. I was downtown Chicago at the time and the call did not register. I had been meeting a friend for lunch, and then wandered down to State street to do some browsing. I had a couple interviews coming up and needed to purchase a few things.

I went home that afternoon around 5:00 pm. My phone had been on silent while I was doing this shopping, and I had missed quite a few calls. Four different people had called me from Northwestern University, as well as multiple texts and voice messages. I'm not sure if this is why, but David's call did not show up. Most likely it was pushed down in the queue of missed calls and I just didn't scroll down to see it.

I walked to the train, took the train home, and listened to my messages/returned those who needed returning. I was feeling excited by all the potential opportunities and distinctly remember wanting to talk to David.

Since I had spoken to David for awhile on Saturday, I decided to wait to call him until Wednesday.

Wednesday, I finally followed David's encouragement and went to a yoga class. This was my first class in over a year, and I was feeling great! Since David asked me, every single time we spoke, if I had been working out, I was really excited to tell him!

I took a 3:00 yoga class and called David on  my walk home. His phone went straight to voice mail and I felt a little surprised. I thought, "Wow, what a good student. He must shut is phone off during class."

Less than three hours later, I learned the worst news I've ever heard in my life. My world stopped and changed completely, all at the same time.

I didn't know about that missed call from David until Thursday, when scrounging through my phone history looking for anything I could find. I learned Thursday that my brother had called me the day before he died, and I had missed it.

I have gone through many stages related to this incident. Initially, I remember feeling relieved that I had not known he had called. If I had seen it, yet purposely decided to wait to return the call, I would feel even worse. I thought maybe it was a blessing, what if I would have answered and told him I was too busy or said the wrong thing. I felt comforted knowing that David had received love and support from my parents and brothers, and he was not alone.

I know that this is nothing I can change, and I know that there is nothing I can do, but I can't help but think that I had a chance and I missed it.

Time and time again I've thought of what I would say if I could have that one conversation. The first night and the first couple days, the only thing I could say to David was that I loved him. Over and over those words came to my mouth, "David, I love you."

I imagine what that conversation would have been. I imagine what I would have said and what I would have heard.

I know now that David must have been incredibly scared. I know now that David was experiencing thoughts that were not his own. I know now that David was ill, more ill than he, or anyone who loved him, knew.

Knowing what I know now, these are some things that I would like to say:

"David, I love you. I am so sorry for this pain that you are feeling. I can't imagine what it is like and I know it must be terrifying. Remember that this is an illness. It is deceiving you to believe it is you, but it is not. Remember that this will pass, just like I said last year while you were in Colombia, this, too, shall pass. 

Today may be hard, but tomorrow might be easier. 

Please live. Fight. You are so incredibly loved. This world needs you. You have so much work left to do. I want to grow old with you. I want to live close to you, David. 

You are my best friend. You challenge me more than anyone in my life, I need that. I need you. I love you. I will do anything to help and support you.

Nothing matters but your well-being. Don't worry about school. Don't worry about where you'll live or what you'll do. Take care of yourself and those answers will come. 

Believe in yourself, because everyone believes in you."

This could go on and on. The harsh reality of the events which unfolded give me a clarity of the situation. I know now what he may have needed to hear. I know now what I should have said.

Since I cannot go back to that day and see that call. I have to find peace.

It's also possible that what I said to David may have helped him in on Tuesday, but that moment may have still come on Wednesday. The moment when all hope was lost and David's illness allowed him to see only one way to escape the pain.

This is an article from a Catholic priest who has laid a wonderful foundation of understanding related to suicide.

Now, much of what I wish I would have been able to tell David, I need to tell myself.

Most importantly: "This, too, shall pass. Today may be hard, but tomorrow might be easier."

Labor Day Visit, Part One

David moved back to the U.S. in July after living abroad in Colombia for the last two years. He arrived just in time for family festivities as my husband and I were married early in August. David was a the person who introduced Carlos and I (a story for a different post) so he was very involved with the wedding and gave a speech at our reception. With the wedding preparations, I was very busy and did not get to spend as much time with David as I would have liked.

As soon as things settled down, Carlos and I planned a trip to visit David in the Twin Cities. It worked out perfectly that we could visit over Labor Day weekend.We left Chicago on Friday afternoon and arrived early in the morning Saturday. Despite our middle of the night arrival, David insisted that he pick us up at the bus station. I was so excited for this weekend get-away. After a year of wedding planning, it was so nice to feel like I could just live again. I was very happy to spend time with David and excited to explore the Twin Cities.

We got a quick tour of David’s apartment upon arrival. He was living in an incredible historic mansion in Minneapolis. His room had a beautiful view of the downtown area and his love of history made him appreciate the place even more. He was excited to have us there and I was equally excited to be there.

David's House. His room is the one with four windows at the very top. Photo Credit: Luke Gibbs

We woke up Saturday morning and David fixed us breakfast. He made eggs, toast, and hashbrowns. I stood in the entry-way of the kitchen and watched him cook. He allowed me to keep him company but did not let me help. I’ll never forget that, the proud and excited way he prepared our meal. We all ate together and talked about what we wanted to do for the day. We had discussed different options but decided to rent bikes and explore around the lakes. David had a bike so Carlos and I just needed to rent them. There was a bike depot right near his apartment so we walked over and picked up our bikes there.

David led the way as we rode up and down the hills of Minneapolis. It wasn’t long before I needed a break. The rental bikes were super heavy and I was using every ounce of my energy to pedal those hills! David asked me if I would prefer to use his bike, he thought it would be lighter and an easier ride. I gladly accepted and we resumed our ride. He was right, with David’s bike I was able to move even faster than the boys.

We went down along the lakes and I rode ahead a little bit. Singing to myself quietly but listening to David and Carlos talk. It made me so happy to be there, sharing my brother with my husband and my husband with my brother. I felt proud and lucky. 

I remember riding and exclaiming, “this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time!” David was surprised and said, “Anna, you just got married, shouldn’t that have been the happiest?” I said, “Yes, that was happy, but in a different way. This is a normal life kind of happy.” I couldn’t really explain it to him, or I was too embarrassed to be so honest, but really, I was feeling so excited that he was back in the US. I couldn't wait to be close again. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. My two best friends, were best friends. I couldn't wait for us to make many more memories together.

David was so fun to be around as he embraced life. He took advantage of opportunities to be active, experience new things, and have fun. He was a good influence on me.

We eventually parked our bikes along the lake and walked over to the beach. After only a moment of deliberation, we decided to go swimming. There was a floating island out in the middle of the lake and we swam out to it. The water was perfect after getting in and felt so refreshing after our ride. Growing up we did a lot of creek stomping and swimming in a nearby stream. We would hike up to the spring on our parent’s property. Some of these memories came back to me as we swam out to the island. I remember feeling young and happy to have this quality time with my brother and friend.

View of the island is off in the distance. 

We took turns jumping off the island and eventually just sat on the edge hanging our legs off the side. I was pretty in love with Minneapolis by this point and I told David and Carlos that I wanted to move there. We talked about this for a long time and eventually decided that maybe we could move in a year.

David and I talked about how nice it would be if all of our family lived close again. We’ve been spread out over the last few years and treasure our precious time together, usually once or twice a year. David and I talked with love for each of our siblings. I remember the feeling in my heart vividly. Sitting on that island, my feet hanging off the side into the water. Talking and laughing with David and Carlos. Feeling so blessed, like life was a dream.

Photo with David after we got out of the water. 

On Seagull's Wings

David soaring on the wings of this seagull.

One Month

Today is the one month anniversary since David's passing. I still have moments of shock like I am learning what happened for the first time. I frequently want to call him, only to remember that I can't. I can still talk to him, but in a different way. I am working on that: how to talk to David without feeling foolish. Sometimes I feel his undeniable energy. It's very interesting and hard to explain. In those moments, I just know that David is with me. He's always with me, but in those moments he's right with me.

I miss our memories, our friendship, and our hopes for the future. It's very bizarre to miss him for events that haven't even happened yet. I miss him for the holidays, for his wedding, for experiencing parenthood together. I miss our shared hope to live close together again, and the fact it didn't get to happen. I miss making meals together and growing up together. I miss him.

When reflecting on how much I have learned in the last few weeks, I came up with a few lessons. I know this list will only continue to grow. It's incredible how David can continue to teach others, even when he's not here to do the talking.

David mid his Peruvian travels.

Things I have learned from David, and from losing him:

-Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you. Tell them how special they are. Hug them and kiss them. Love them.

-Make time to cultivate relationships. Whether stranger or old friend, never lose sight of the beauty found in people’s stories.

-Appreciate humor and take advantage of humor as a way to brighten others’ day

-Never make assumptions. Ask questions and LISTEN to the answer. Specifically ask, “How ARE you?” Mean it. Listen. Understand.

-Appreciate mental health. Appreciate physical health.

-Appreciate family. Love family. Spend time with family.

-When an intimate family or friend passes on from this earth, they live on through you. Aspire to be more like them. Allow them to empower you.

-Find joy in the simple things: a light breeze, a blue sky, or even a box of animal crackers.

-Be positive.

-Do the best you can do every day. Make a difference in everything that you do. Leave a lasting impression with all you meet.

-Some days will be hard, some days unbearable. Push through because the sun will shine again. The clouds will lift, and you will feel happiness. I understand that David's disease did not allow him this privilege. Appreciate this as a privilege.

-It is okay to have a bad day. It is not okay to feel bad for days. Seek outside help and support when needed.

-Appreciate nature. Every bird, every gust of wind. The world is so beautifully connected. Admire its intelligence.

-Keep faith. Trust yourself. Trust God.

I've also learned very much about mental illness generally, and depression and suicide specifically. Those are lessons for a different post but more poignant than any lecture I ever had studying psychology.

In one month, my life has changed completely. The way I see the world is different because my world is different. I have learned so much in only one month, and I am thankful that I am able to face tomorrow, despite my heavy heart and tear-filled eyes. I love you, my brother David.

Hopeful Metaphor

A tree as vibrant as David. 

My husband shared a hopeful metaphor with me: the pain I feel from missing David is like a burning flame. Every time my thoughts get close to specific memories, hopes, or dreams I get burned. The pain can be too intense to bear. But over time, that flame can be molded into something else, something different. It could be a diamond, gem, or crystal. It can be something beautiful that I hold with me at all times.

I know that sometimes it may still bring tears, but overwhelmingly, I will feel proud and humbled by who David was. I will feel love. I will feel thankful that David was my big brother for 23 years of my life. I will feel empowered by his struggle and more compassionate toward others. I will remember who David was, what he taught me, and what he encouraged me to be.

Today I am thankful for today. I am thankful for all the yesterdays. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I have hope. I love you, David.

My Brother

David began his Master's in Public Policy at the University of Minnesota this fall. He fell in love with Foreign Policy at the University of Iowa while earning his undergraduate degree in Political Science. David had an ear and heart for the injustices of the world. He struggled with the question why. Why does this happen? Why can't God ease some of the suffering in the world?

The love David had for others whom he didn't even know, is only a glimpse into the love he had for his family and friends. David thrived in a group of people, whether strangers or old friends, he was quick to instigate a meaningful conversation, debate, or share a funny story to break the ice. David had a charismatic glow about him. Everywhere he walked, and he walked with a pretty great stride, he was connecting with people.

Growing up four years younger than David, I wanted to be as cool as I considered him to be. We had a volatile relationship growing up, he was jealous of me due to the attention I received as the first girl. He was pretty mean to me at times, and this caused a resentment in me. Even though I admired him to no end, I did not let him know this. I put on a hard shell toward him and acted like I was better than him. We knew just want to say to each other to cause pain.

It wasn't until my Freshman year of college when this changed. I moved to the same city as him and began my studies while he was finishing his last year. David was really good at school. He worked hard, earned excellent grades and really learned what he was studying. He loved history and political science. He felt proud of his ability to spout off dates and specific events that changed our world. I often felt intimidated by his knowledge.

David would critique my papers for class and taught me how to make a logical argument. He brought me grocery shopping and at some point we began to hang out by choice. He liked asking me to go shopping with him, I remember with great happiness shopping for his first suit. He looked so sharp and was very excited. Through our friendship, I learned of David's kindness and sensitive heart. His outward shell of humor and intelligence, often overshadowed his extreme compassion. Learning this about my brother made me love him even more. Through our friendship over the next few years, something in my heart changed. David not only was my big brother, but I felt like his big sister.

We constantly told each other how proud we were of the other. We still had little tiffs, but immediately would work to find a peaceful resolution. We would make up with a tight hug and two "I love yous" one from him, and one from me.