On August 26, 2016, my dad passed away in a boating accident in Missouri. Ever since that day, I continually mature and take up responsibilities that I would not have had before. My brother grieved significantly after the accident, blocking himself and his emotions off from the rest of our family. He wasn’t like my mom. Sometimes, I could hear her muffled sobbing through the night. She struggled daily while he only had a select few tough days: events or holidays that would usually include our dad, especially Christmas shopping.

Although the weather was not chilly, the feeling of Christmas still surrounded me with an abundance of bright, green mistletoe over every arch and the fresh smell of Christmas trees in every home. I vividly recall the day that my Christmas experience was forever altered. I started my car, hummed along to the soft country music playing from earlier that day, and waited for my brother, Braden, to meet me in the garage. He was avoiding Christmas shopping because shopping for our mom was something that we did with our dad, except that Dad would not be attending this year. He wouldn’t even give me any suggestions for presents for Mom. He simply shrugged his broad shoulders every time I asked for his opinion. What could we possibly get for Mom? She has everything. I guess we could just get her the same old routine things, like pajamas, tennis shoes, and perfume. I mean she seems to like it; I’ll just have to pass it by Braden. Braden finally got in the car, and I started to fuss at him: “Where have you been? We will barely make it to the mall before closing time.” He explained that he had to grab his wallet, and then I felt my heart racing faster.

“Braden, I’ll just pay with the credit card; that’s why I have it!” I harshly exclaimed… and that was when he broke down. The heavy tears streaming down his bright red face made me feel so guilty. He started screaming, “I am paying, Paris. Dad would be proud of me. He would want me to take care of you and Mom. I have to do that for him.” The desperate, helpless look in his eyes told me something I had never thought about before. What would I do with a fatherless thirteen year old boy? I sat there and contemplated how to respond. I leaned over to hug him, but he stiffened and tried to push me away. He finally released the tension, laid his head on my shoulder, and sobbed. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

That exact moment when my little brother told me that he needed to support our family is when I realized that I would have to step up for him. I needed to start being a figure that he could look up to and count on. I had to guide him in the right directions while our mom figured out how to continue living without the love of her life. He needed me more than ever, and I decided to take full responsibility for looking after him from that night on.