One day of the year always brings my family together in an unexplainable way. No matter where I am, I feel a connection with my family that no one else will ever experience. We have celebrated that day every year since I can remember, and no matter how old or how "cool" we were, that day has always been special.

The day I am referring to is September 14, the birthday of my brother, Matthew.

On that day this week, I received a picture text from my mom. Tears immediately filled my eyes when I realized what it was — a bouquet of blue and white balloons surrounding a "Happy Birthday" balloon. It was my brother's 26 birthday.

I've always imagined what it would be like to have a picture of Matthew sent to us on that day, rather than a bunch of balloons, but that will never happen. I've imagined what it would be like to have two older brothers — one to toughen me up, and the other to protect me at all costs, (even if I deserved to be picked on once and a while) but that's not reality.

In my mind, Matthew would have been our fearless older brother. He would have driven his three goofy siblings around as soon as he got his license, been embarrassed when he brought his girlfriend home to meet his crazy family, and been an avid hunter like my dad and brother, Jacob. When I brought my boyfriend (future husband) home to meet my family, Matthew and Jacob would have been sitting on the front step with a shotguns in hand, only to both burst out laughing as soon as we stepped out of the car.

This is how I would imagine life would have been if Matthew were here.

Matthew was my parents' firstborn son. However, they didn't get a chance to see him open his eyes or grab their fingers with this little hands. They didn't get to take his first steps or even hear his first giggle. Matthew was stillborn.

I can't imagine the grief that my parents felt — the grief that many others experience each day. The child that was growing inside of his mommy's tummy was suddenly still. The dreams for that child are gone in an instant. The chance to snuggle a newborn baby that they have created has been taken from them without warning. Nothing seems fair.

However, my parents were able to get past the grief through the support of family, friends, and the assurance that they will see Matthew again in heaven. They saved mementos of Matthew and placed them in a chest with his name on it: his hat, my mom's hospital bracelet, his socks. Braving the chance of more heartache, they had three more children — my brother Jacob, myself and my sister Sarah.

I am so grateful that my parents were strong enough to share Matthew's story with us. He is our big brother, one who watches us and who lives in our hearts even though we never met. Our yearly tradition on Matthew's birthday is to buy balloons, gather as a family outside, release the balloons into the sky and sing happy birthday to Matthew. We get to ask questions, dream of what Matthew would have been like at that age and hold each other as the tears start to fall. It is always hard, but I can't think of any better way to remember our brother. The brother we may not have met, but have always felt connected to.

He is a part of us. And he knits us closer together as a family. A family of two unbelievably strong parents, an older brother who values family above all things and would do anything to protect his little sisters and a younger sister who brings beautiful and contagious laughter into our lives every day. I think Matthew would be proud.

Happy birthday, big brother. We love you and miss you more than anything.