Very seldom do I think of the day our world ended. Sometimes flashes of the weeks after come through my head, but I am sure to always turn it into fuel instead of sorrow. Every now and then the voice of my father saying the words that nearly stopped my heart drag through my head, echoing the idea that nothing can ever come from your death. Sometimes, I sit and think about our younger days, where you were literally Superman. There was nothing in the world that I could beat you in, and you made sure I knew that. Yet, when the scheme included us on the same team, there was not a shot that anyone could defeat the dynamic duo. Between Spoons, Uno, Poker, board games, and football, you put us on the same team? You may as well forfeit before you get embarrassed.

One of the first memories of my life is of you and I throwing the football in Nanny’s front yard. Simple, yet burned into my head like a fire that can never be put out. There was always the dream, and there was only one objective to that dream: play football on Saturdays for The Ohio State University. I once asked you how we were going to make it there, and you looked like I had just asked the worst question you’d ever heard. You looked at me, flexed, and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll lead us there.” Once again, simple, yet never forgotten.

In the five years since that day, March 12th, 2012, I’ve taken a route I never thought possible. I’ve nearly lost the grip on life myself on more than enough times, and I’ve sat through more counseling sessions than I’d ever like to admit. I’ve ripped my shoulder in half, been shut out of a year’s worth of work, and stuck at a school that offered me nothing in return. When I graduated, while it was true I could finally leave and start all over, I learned the hard way that our story was never meant to be forgotten. I cried myself to sleep many nights in Athens and lost sight of the dreams that you had left on the table for me to carry out. Essentially, I felt like I’d failed. But not myself, not my parents, but you. I felt like I’d let you down, and I didn’t know where to go because there was only one person who had ever understood the darkness that had always crowded my mind. I hated you for it then, but I forgive you for it now.

Today, though, is different. I was thinking about you yesterday and, “You Should Be Here” by Cole Swindell came on, and I lost it. I bawled right there in the middle of the library. When he sings,

“You should be here, you’d be loving this, you’d be freaking out, you’d be smiling, yeah I know you’d be all about what’s going on right here right now, oh you should be here.”

It hit me just how much you really would be loving this right now. In April I got word that an old dream of ours had been confirmed, and I received my acceptance letter to our beloved Ohio State University. I got out of the trap I’d put myself in, and found comfort in not living through you, but letting you live through me. I hit numbers in the weight room I never thought possible, and I have a girl who would have passed every test you had and know you would’ve considered her family from day one. Alex and I get to see each other often, and yes, I even still play NFL Street 2. Needless to say, I’ve made sure you’d be proud.

It’s March 10^th though, which means you’re going to be the only thing on my mind. It’s March 10^th, which means we will all come together on Facebook and share how much you meant in the 18 years you gave us. People always ask how I am still so religious, how I preach the words of the Lord with everything that I’ve been through, and how I had my faith confirmed the day we said our goodbyes. I guess, when the time came for everyone to crowd into the funeral home, and I sat outside instead, watching the pink of the sunset fade behind the surface of the earth, and then observed a pink star shine in the sky like we were supposed to be able to just reach up and touch it, I knew there was never any other way you could’ve gone. The Lord called you home, and I know you are one of his favorites. I know you watch over us all, and I know you wish you could hold us like we wish we could you.

Well my brother, I’ve got to go, got our dreams to chase. I pray you come to see us all today, and that you give everyone the hope like you’ve given me. I pray that you know just how much we all love you, and that we know you’ve truly never left. No matter how many years since, we know that the 18 we had were pretty damn good. Rest easy, Nick.