A Funeral and My Birthday - April 28 2012

APRIL 28 - 2013

I am writing this at 4 a.m. in the passenger seat on my phone, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Iowa. This was not how I intended to spend my birthday, but things happen and plans change.

My sister has been spending her days and nights for the past couple of months with her fiancé, who had cancer. On Tuesday, he passed away while she was by his side. She was faithful and compassionate in every moment. As if losing our father wasn’t enough, she now has also lost the man she loved the most.

On Tuesday afternoon, I got in the car with my brother and drove up to Iowa to be with her. It has been an emotional week, watching her and his loved ones experience this. It has brought back so many feelings from when I lost my dad—and when someone leaves this earth, you always evaluate your life.

Today is my birthday. I will be spending it in the car, driving back to Nashville. I am the kind of person who loves to be spoiled and recognized on my birthday. I love unwrapping presents, just like a little kid. I love blowing out candles. I love the hugs and surprises. I know today won’t be a normal birthday, but I am grateful I was in a position to leave and be with my sister. I was probably not the best of all the people who came to comfort her, but I am glad I could be there to offer laughter and love.

Today, I think about my life and celebrate another year ahead, even as Adam has just ended his short life here on Earth. Sometimes, life is hard and disappointing. But while celebrating Adam’s life in Iowa, I learned from him that while on this Earth, we need to ask the big questions of life—why we are here, and where are we going when we are done with this world.

I didn’t really know Adam well. I never got the opportunity to know him deeply, but I dedicate this birthday to you, Adam. I promise to have dreams and to work to make them come true. I promise to find someone to love with everything that I have. I promise to laugh and lift others.

Thank you for loving my sister with your last breath, and thank you for letting her love you back. I never would have guessed that on this birthday, I would be driving from Iowa after a funeral—but here I am. And though it was not under the best conditions, I am grateful for the experience and the memory. Sometimes our greatest lessons are learned in the most unexpected places.