In Memory of My Brother George

Yesterday was the second hardest day of the year. The first hardest day was May 13, 2010 when we heard the tragic news of my brother's death. Since then I've gone over every moment, every experience, every day we had together on this earth. I can't even count how many days I spent in a fog - lost - going through the motions of life, but unable to cope with the grief, loss, and pain of a losing my brother.

When we were kids he taught me how to clean my own fish, scramble eggs, and make fry bread wrong. I still have the scar on my right wrist from that day when the grease splashed on me.

We used to go fishing, play stick game, ride bikes, play baseball, and tell ghost stories outside at night.

When we were teenagers he taught me that you're never too young to work hard and earn your own way. Following his path, I started working since I was 13.

As adults, he was always the most successful, demonstrating to the rest of us that it is possible to start at the bottom and work your way up. He was still in his 20's when he was promoted to manager of a company he worked for. They relocated him to California, where he was robbed at gunpoint - twice. While the family was worried and wanted him to come home, he stayed and continued to work hard and do his best.

He taught me the value of being fearless and independent, and he has always been the example I used for my own children to look up to.

His life was much more than anything I can put into words. He was a loving brother, great teacher, hard worker, and all around athlete.

When I got the call that he took his own life I drove around for a long time and cried... asking him why? Why? Didn't he think about us?

In a strange moment that I can't explain, he somehow reached out to me and simply said "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

I know brother, I know.