I am 20 years old and I have no recollection of my older brother. I have no laughs to reminisce, no arguments to muse over, and no brother-sister quirks to remember. All I have are pictures and the lessons I have learned while coping with his death.

At the age of seven, my brother’s life was taken far too young by cancer. The day of his death, I was 10 months old and had no idea what my future and my family's future was going to look like without a beloved son and brother. His battle with leukemia began a few years before his death and consisted of daily hospital visits, intensive chemotherapy treatments, remission, relapse, stem cell transplants, more chemotherapy, and many, many tears.

To this day, I am astounded that his little body withheld the amount of detriment and damage that it underwent. While his youth and innocence were stripped from him, he somehow managed to always keep an emanating smile on his face that brought out the biggest dimples I have ever seen on a kid. To say I admire his perseverance and optimism would be an understatement.

At the end of his journey, some of his last words were centered around how much he loved his baby sister and his mom and dad. Those words are the only consolation I’ve ever received. They have made me appreciate life and have aided me in learning how to live without my brother’s physical presence.

I’ve learned many important lessons from my brother’s death that I might not have otherwise learned. Allow me to do my best to share these lessons with you.

I am human. With my brother passing away and me being the only child left for a substantial amount of time in my life, I felt the pressure of being the “super kid.” I wanted to do everything that I was meant to do -- sports, good grades, lots of friends, etc. -- and everything that my brother was set out to do. I felt the need to carry his weight on my shoulders in order to make up for his lost time. Tired and exhausted from putting that pressure on myself, I sooner rather than later realized that I am only human and that the best I can be is myself.

My parents are human. As children, it is natural to put our parents on pedestals and worship their every move. As we grow and mature, we realize that they are only human too. After losing my brother and watching my parents heal throughout the years, I saw their true emotions of pain, frustration, and sadness; three emotions I never imagined my parents could ever feel when I was a child. I am now realizing that holding them to the high standards that we do as their children places a weight on their shoulders that continues to grow as we do.

Coping with losing a sibling is one thing, but coping with losing a child is something I cannot understand, and hope to dear God that I will never have to. I owe them an immense amount of credit and gratitude for keeping me together in one piece while simultaneously grieving separately and attempting to keep themselves together. I’ve learned to put my parents on a pedestal because of the hardships they have overcome, a pedestal that is a testament to each of their strengths that have allowed them to persevere through the loss of a child while still raising me.

Closure does not exist in our world. Humans yearn for closure in every aspect of pain, whether they have lost a loved one or were heartbroken by their partner. Losing my brother has shown me that closure does not exist. There will always be an empty chair at our dinner table where he should be sitting, a spot for his name on our Christmas cards, and a spot in our hearts that will never be filled by anyone else. It was harder years ago to accept that those spots will always remain, even if he does not. However, it has gotten easier throughout the years to accept that although his physical presence has disappeared, he will always remain in our hearts. That is the closest I will ever come to finding closure in a world where closure does not exist.

By experiencing the loss of my brother, I have become an extremely vulnerable individual that is sensitive to many, many things. The idea of vulnerability scared me at first, as it does with many, but I’ve learned that being vulnerable is a strength of mine. It has allowed me to learn the power of unification through empathy. My experience with losing my brother has enabled me to empathize with others and their experiences, even those that are distant in similarity to mine.

I’ve gained a keen sense of knowing how emotions rage within someone and sharing my experience with others makes them realize that vulnerability is truly a strength. It isn’t easy to relive our hardships, and I will be the first to admit that I still shed tears almost 20 years after my brother’s death, but it has given me a new light to understanding how embracing my experience and how it has shaped me as an individual encourages others to share their experiences and find solace in one another.

The most important lesson I have learned is to never dwell on the ‘what ifs,’ but rather focus on ceasing each and every moment. Time is the most precious element of life and can be taken from anyone at any moment, as I am sure you are all aware. Time is often taken away from people that have yet to experience the values and virtues of life, which has instilled in me the importance of appreciation. This idea sounds cliche, but you do not truly understand it’s value and realness until you’ve experienced first-hand watching someone’s time run out unexpectedly.

I’ve learned to make time for the people that matter most in my life, to be proactive about seeking out those who I want to keep in my life, and to make the most out of every experience I have, small or large. Knowing that I want to live every second of my life is both beautiful and paralyzing, something that scares me because of its immense potential, but gives me motivation to never let myself subside to my hardships. There are so many surprises waiting for each and every one of us that we must cherish and appreciate. Losing my brother has instilled in me the importance of gratitude, appreciation, kindness, optimism, and enthusiasm for life.

I would not have half the morale I do if I had not experienced the loss of someone so close to me. I am forever grateful that I am able to see the positive aspect of my brother’s death and share my story and experiences with others. As humans, we are strongest when we stand together, and sharing my hardship with others is my small contribution to a larger picture of unifying many to create a more kind and understanding world.