Three Years

The last time I was home, my Mom laid a blue notebook on my dresser. The notebook was labeled "Ryan M. Jasper, 3/07-10-29-07" and was slightly worn around the edges. As I began flipping through the pages of this journal, tears welled up in my eyes. Each page was filled with detailed accounts of interactions Ryan had on a daily basis. The more pages I turned, the more memories began to surface. Memories of phone calls made, letters exchanged, visits made. This journal that was from 2007 contains entries from the times that Ryan and I were the absolute closest we had ever been. I was 21 years old and he was 25, and we had finally gotten past the stage or arguing over petty things; more mature and intense conversations replaced the meaningless bickering. I was at a point in my life where I felt like I could talk to Ryan about anything and the same went for him. There wasn't a day that went by in that period of time where my name wasn't found on a journal entry, whether it be for a phone call he made to me, a voicemail he left me, a letter he received from me, pictures he received from me or sent to me, etc. He wrote about visits we had, how good they were, how often he worked out, what he did at the gym, when he played sports, who else he called, etc. Exact times were even listed. He mentions the names of friends of mine that reached out to him and wrote him letters, not only for me but because they genuinely cared about him and wanted to keep him company while he was away. These all warmed my heart all over again.

Growing up, I was always embarrassed that I had a sibling that wasn't quite like me, that got in trouble and spent time away and in prison. But looking back, I have so many letters and cards and drawings that I will have forever. I feel bad for people who lose a loved one and barely have anything to remember them by. They must feel like the memories slip away from them like water through your fingers. I have so many tokens of his love. I have friends and family that tell me that I always go out of my way to make people feel special or to show them that I care and I can see now that this is part of who my family is. This is where we came from. Ryan did the same thing; he was always leaving notes around the house for my Mom or making sure that people were taken care of over holidays, even if he wasn't there to take care of it himself. I take pride in knowing this is the kind of person I am and the kind of people that I was raised by and grew up with.

I also found this poem that my brother wrote me when he was a teenager, the height of times that were more difficult between the two of us. Our relationship was strained for the longest time but I think all that aside, we both had each others best interests at heart. We both cared for each other to the moon and back, and no one could understand what we had. It was unique, for sure. My Dad always told me that no matter how many times Ryan disappointed us, I still stood by him. I would get frustrated for sure, but at the end of the day, all I wanted was for him to be successful and on the right path.

So once again I find myself at my computer thinking of the best way to sum up the emotions associated with this day, yet stumble to find the words that could come close to conveying how I feel. I have struggled some this past month as I'm sure my parents have as well, but I do wake up each morning thankful to be alive and trying to find at least one thing to be thankful for each day. This particular year I am thankful for the artifacts I have found that bring me comfort. Pieces of the past that I will always keep in my possession. Pieces of the past that allow me to remember the good times AND the bad times, but most importantly all the times in between. Those are the memories that, especially during this time of year and on this particular day, I keep closest to my heart, helping to fill the hole.

Miss you every day big bro!

Love,
Your lil sis <3