My brother's name was Luke. He’s 3 years older than me. He would be 27 this year. We didn’t really get along when we were younger, but after he moved out we got really close. He went to college and decided didn’t really like it, so he joined the army. He was one of those funny guys. he could make my parents laugh even after they had a big fight. He could also be really mean. He was the popular kid at high school who was intimidating but people really liked him. You would always know if he liked you or didn’t like you. It was so annoying sometimes because he didn't like any of the boys I brought home.
On my 16th birthday, I got to have boys over to my party. I remember I went outside to meet one boy in particular, and he picked me up to carry me to the backyard. At the same time, my brother was driving down the road and saw this guy carrying me. He drove up the driveway, screeched the tires and ran to the back yard demanding to know who picked up his sister. Haha so annoying!
He used to have this really weird Russian/ ski hat. He wore it all the time. I heard this story from one of his friends… His senior year in high school, he and his friends would ditch school at lot and their hangout spot was always our house. He texted his friend saying come over at 1:04 exactly. His friend thought that was weird, so his friend came over at 1 and walked in the door to see my brother coming down the stairs butt naked only wearing this weird hat saying, “Um, I said come at 1:04.” And then he just walked off. That’s basically his personality.
I always think of this when I’m remembering him. One time we (my family) were sitting in a church meeting. My brother hated church. He was complaining to my mom about it and she said “Quiet, keep your mouth shut.” I zoned out and wasn’t paying attention ‘til I looked over to see my brother with his whole tie rolled up and shoved in his mouth. My mom was angrily whispering to him to stop, but he gestured that he couldn’t speak. I don’t know why that one has stuck with me.
It was in October 2009. He was in Iraq. He was the gunner on top of an M-rap, which is a name for a tank. He was the guy sticking out of the top. They were driving around a roundabout, and the driver was driving too fast and rolled. He died instantly.
I wasn’t there, I was at a birthday party. Two soldiers came to our door to tell my family. My mom and sisters were home and my dad was on a business trip. My sister called and told me and I broke down and someone had to drive me home. I wish we had all been together that night.
His friends couldn’t come to the funeral but they had a memorial in North Carolina and we were able to meet his friends in the platoon.
I feel like it comes in waves. Sometimes there's really big waves, sometimes I feel like I’m drowning and I can't get out. I don’t like those ones. Then the small ones are the ones that remind me of him I like those a lot more. It’s also hard to predict. I was 17 when my sister called me at that birthday party. Initially, I was very angry. I remember right away I was in shock. As soon as I realized what was happening, I wanted to know who killed him. I was mad at God. I remember some men from church came to give us blessings and I didn’t want to speak to them because I didn’t want God in my life.
I had one really big problem with his funeral. They told us it would be an open casket, then last minute they decided that they were going to wrap his body, and we wouldn’t get to see him. I don’t know if it was worse and they just didn’t want to tell us. They said he had some scrapes on his forehead that they didn’t want us to see.
Sometimes there are protests at soldiers’ funerals and it makes me really sad. They don’t agree with war, but it’s disrespectful to share those opinions at a funeral when it’s very personal and special to the family. We were able to have some official guys who would take care of protesters if they did show up. I felt like the funeral was a good way to give me some closure. I liked that there were so many people I didn’t realize who had been impacted by him or who loved us enough to come. I didn’t like initially how much the military was involved, but I’m now grateful for how much they helped.
People were extra gentle to me. They would soften their voices. They would say, “How are you holding up?” or “How are you doing?” They would bring food. They treated me very delicately and it was ok, because I was really delicate. It would have been worse if they didn’t. I didn’t like the attention. We got a lot of news attention.
All these local news places flooded to our house with no appointment and knocked on our door. I was hurting and I didn’t want to keep talking about it. They kept asking the same questions over and over and it was hard to keep repeating ourselves. Then to turn on the t.v. and see it all over again. There were some that were very great and respectful, but there were also some that only cared about the story and never thought about our feelings.
I kind of shut down. I had a hard time talking about it and being involved in it. I didn’t help my family pick out the photos for the funeral. Some friends would ask me what I wanted to talk about and didn’t force anything. I had a friend come over a week later. He took me to the store. We bought puffy Cheetos and went to Taco Bell. It was just a normal day, even though it was just a week after my brother died. It was just chill. We didn’t have to talk about it, I just got to hang out with him.
For a long time I was very closed off, until the past two years. I never really wanted to talk about it. There were some of my missionary companions who I never told, I said I didn’t even have a brother so they didn’t ask about what happened. There wasn’t anything that changed that. Gradually I would let myself imagine what it would be like if he was here, and I would let myself cry. And it was so nice. I feel like I’m a lot more compassionate now especially with death. The whole experience has made me more understanding that everyone deals with things differently.
I think that grief is love. It’s all this love that you can’t give to this person and I think that it’s beautiful. And it’s hard and it’s the worst thing in the world, but it’s so beautiful because it means that you love someone.
Being alone helps me. Which is weird because I feel like I’m more extroverted normally, but I just want to be by myself. Sometimes I’ll creep on his facebook and it helps, but it also can make it worse. Or I watch weird movies that have nothing to do with him, but it honestly helps. My go-to movie that always makes me feel better is Cry Baby, with Johnny Depp. I don’t know why.
I would say to someone who wants to help: ask for what they want, don’t assume they would grieve in the same way as you. That may not be the same with everyone, but it made me feel that I was in control and no one was forcing me to do anything.
There’s nothing I do the same every time on his birthday… one year on his birthday, on his 21st birthday, we released 21 balloons at his grave with notes to him. If I’m not with my family, I’ll do something to remember him. I had a counselor tell me to release a lei off the Point (a big peninsula that juts out into the ocean in Hawaii) into the ocean.
I was going through a really rough patch and I went and saw a counselor. I only went a few times and it was just nice to have someone there to listen to me and give suggestions like that, which did help.
I have a few regrets. I remember when he used to call home from Iraq. I always talked to him, but I took it for granted. I wish I would have made those conversations more meaningful. I wish I would have kept in better contact, I always thought I would catch up with him next time he was home. He hadn’t been out very long- I think he joined when he was 18 or 19 and he died when he was 20.
When I write my journal entries, I write “Dear Luke,” so it’s not really a journal, but I write to him. I’m not super great at keeping up with it, it started pretty faithful. I used to message him on Facebook, but then I just started writing it myself.
My mom was worried about me because I was so closed off. She is very open about her grieving and I just wasn’t. She wanted to do family counseling and I straight up refused to go. So they went without me. It’s just me and my sister now. And I remember my sister telling me that my mom was talking about me in the counseling session and I would think, “I just want her to leave me alone.” It took us a while to feel like we could talk to each other more. I think we still have progress to make, but I think we’re doing much better.
