It is a morning unlike any other. The sun is gleaming bright, like your smile, although it feels gloomy. It feels as if the sun shouldn’t be shining, it is too sad of a day. I don’t want to try to be happy today, I’m mad that the sun is shining because the rest of the world is happy, but we aren’t.

It is May 22nd, 2014. Five days after the tragedy, and my slow motion world hasn’t stopped spinning. It is a less than quiet car ride with my family of six. Silent tears dripping from our eyes. No one spoke of what we are planning to expect, none of us know what to expect. We arrive at the funeral home around ten o’clock AM and approach it with the clicking of our heels. As I walk in the door and see the devastated faces of my usually cheerful family, I feel my heart swim to my stomach, weighing a ton. I get and give hugs and kisses to everyone. Friends of the family apologizing for our loss, as if that makes it any better.

“Hi honey, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it must be on you all,” many people commented.
“Thank you so much, it means a lot,” I choked, every single time.

I stroll by the boards of endless pictures as I reminisce on your too short but very full 34 years of life. Married to a great wife and being a father to the happiest little boy anybody has ever known. I don’t know how life could have been any better.

My eyes scan farther to the left and there you are, lying so lifeless. Your hands folded across your stomach. Your face is powdery from the makeup they used to make you look alive. You look puffy as if you had just swallowed a bag as salt. Red and white roses, each petal so delicately folded inside one another, fill the silk casket. They’re so delicate and beautiful, so full of life. Everything around you is so alive, except for you.  Besides the flowers, all your favorite things next to you; candy, pictures of the people you love most, etc. I can’t bring myself to say goodbye just yet, I don’t want to say goodbye. This isn’t happening. Wake up Meaghan, you’re having a nightmare. I wish that was the case.

Everyone begins taking their red velvet seats as the service begins. The depressing instrumental funeral music plays until everyone is seated. The priest begins with prayer. He shares about your radiant energy and even better spirit that you encircled so many of us with. A few people get up and speak, one sings and plays a song on the guitar that he wrote in memory. Some have pre written speeches, some just speak out of their heart. I realize how many people you truly touched. I see that you have impacted each and every person’s life that’s sitting in this room, and there’s a lot.

I feel depressed and restless, I lift my heavy head and take a look around. Everyone is so devastated. Everyone is in deep denial that we lost such a great man. Your contagious smile and echoing laugh branded in my mind, just like Grandpa Moose ,  in everyone’s mind. I see your son, Caleb, snuggling into his single mommy trying to wrap his three-year-old brain around the fact that God needed to take Daddy to Heaven.
As the service comes to a close, “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton plays as the whole room is silent. We begin to form a line to hug and give our condolences to your mom and dad, your wife, and your brother. Nobody speaks. The sound of breathless sobs fill my ears. As I approach my uncle and he embraces me into a hug, that’s when it hit me like a truck.

“He loved you so much, Meggie,” Uncle JJ beamed.

You proved to the world that it was possible to have compassion and care, even when combating your own terrible demons. You made people laugh, you made people think, and you showed them faith. When a friend was in need, you were there no questions asked, whenever, wherever. You knew what it was like to be so down that you wanted to do whatever you possibly could to make sure those you cared about never felt the same way as you once did. For that, I am proud of you. I am proud that all of our lives will be better off after having such a great man in it. It is most definitely possible to get back up when you’ve hit rock bottom and I’ve never been so sure of that until now. I strive to show the same amount of care and compassion as you did each and everyday. It is May 22nd, 2014 and my life is forever changed.