A Sister's Tribute - 9th Anniversary

Each year, as we get into July, a heaviness comes over me. It feels like my heart beats faster and memories race through my mind, as July 14th gets closer and closer.

Don’t get me wrong… This heaviness is felt often throughout the year and hits at the most random times. Andrew is constantly on my mind, but July 14th is a significant date, so the heaviness is exponential. I dread it.

Last night, I stayed awake until 4 am, seemingly subconsciously trying to avoid going to sleep, since I knew that when I woke up it’d be a hard day. Sure enough, I woke up this morning, checked my phone, saw some texts about Andrew (which I’m so appreciative of! Thank you for remembering him!) and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the day, as a tear fell down my cheek.

July 13, 2007, after 166 days in the hospital, doctors told us Andrew wouldn’t live through the night. That was the 4th time we heard those words, but something felt different this time. This felt real. For the first time in 166 days, I felt that my brother might not be coming home with us.

For 166 days, I believed that one day the four of us – Mom, Dad, me and Andrew – would walk out of the hospital together. We had already been in the hospital for 6 months straight, as Andrew was never well enough to come home post-diagnosis, so maybe we’d get to go home together after a few more months, right? Surely, we’d all go home together.

On July 13, 2007, reality smacked me in the face. Hard. July 13th is our dad’s birthday and I’m positive that Andrew held on through that day, so that the 13th could “just” be my dad’s birthday. July 14, 2007, our extended family swarmed the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Family took over the room next to ours, as a sliding door separated the two, and slowly each person came in to say goodbye to my brother – their grandson, their cousin, their nephew, their friend.

9 years later and I still can’t believe this is my life. I still can’t write these words without crying.

Extended family left the room and it was just the 4 of us, our perfectly whole Family of 4. For hours, I laid beside Andrew in the hospital bed and quite literally held on for dear life – my brother’s life. Through my tears, I tried to take a million mental pictures of every little thing about him. Closing my eyes now, I can see those moments in my mind.

- I told Andrew that I loved him. My 14 years with him were just the best and I am so, so grateful for the friendship we had and memories we made.

- I told him how many lives he touched. In just 167 days, his website was viewed nearly 1 million times. That means that people checked in on him – my brother – nearly over 1million times. People from all over the world followed Andrew’s Story. Prayers were inserted into the Western Wall in Jerusalem, candles were lit at the grotto at the University of Notre Dame, and prayers were offered in Lourdes, France at one of the most sacred shrines to Catholics. Andrew’s Story was on TV and in the newspapers not only in our community, but also in other states.

- I told him how proud I was of him. I’m never prouder than when I say, “I’m Andrew’s Sister.” – for 167 days, he defied science countless times. He fought so hard, but there just comes a point when your body can’t fight anymore. He fought through nearly 50 surgeries, 4 strokes, and a brain aneurysm that forced him to be airlifted to Philadelphia and then right back to Delaware post-surgery.

- My 16-year-old self told my 14-year-old brother that it was ok for him to let go. He was being so strong, holding on for us, but I know he was tired. Since his diagnosis on January 29, 2007, I said I would’ve done or given anything to trade places with him. My mom and dad would’ve too… Life is so not fair.

9 years ago today – July 14, 2007 at 1:55 pm – my 14-year-old brother died in my arms.

That vision I had throughout our 166 days, of the 4 of us walking out of the hospital together, disappeared. Along with that vision, life as we knew it disappeared. Life from that moment on would never be the same. I had no idea what this “new life” would be like, but I was terrified. What would it be like to go to dinner and have to say there were only 3 of us? What would it be like to go on vacation, with only 3 of us? To go to a Phillies game, but only need 3 tickets? What would it be like to never be able to have a catch with him again? To never be able to hug him again. We'll always be a "Family of 4", but the reminders of only having 3 people physically here are so painful.

I have zero recollection of walking out of the hospital on July 14, 2007, but I know that there were only 3 of us and this “new life” we were unwillingly thrown into was already so different and so painful. I have no idea how we got home that day, but I remember waking up the next morning to food someone had generously dropped off, people on the back deck, and discussions of planning Andrew’s Celebration of Life. We didn’t have a “funeral” for Andrew, but had a “Celebration of Life” instead. Several years prior, on a drive home from a family member’s funeral, the four of us discussed our preferences and what we’d like to happen after we die. Maybe morbid, maybe prophetic, but so important because we were able to honor Andrew’s wishes (though we thought we’d have decades before we’d need to refer back to the notes my mom scribbled down on a napkin on the car ride home that day). Nearly 2,000 people joined us in the gymnasium of Andrew’s high school to celebrate the incredible life he packed into his 14 years. The gym was filled with different colored B+/ Pray For Andrew shirts, because Andrew wouldn’t have wanted the day to be full of black clothes and sadness. So many people showed us so much love and support that day and I still can’t get over it because it tells me the impact Andrew – my brother – made on people he met and even people he never met, but they followed his story.

What people might not know is that Andrew chose the music that ended up being played/sung at his Celebration of Life. With one exception. One day, as we planned Andrew’s Celebration of Life, my mom said there was a song she really wanted to be played at Andrew’s Celebration. She couldn’t remember the name of the song, but she knew it would be perfect. A little while later, I said that I really wanted “For Good”, from the Broadway musical Wicked, to be part of the day. It turns out, that was the song that she was thinking of too. In writing this, it just hit me… maybe Andrew did pick that song too, so maybe Andrew picked all of the music – with no exceptions. The 4 of us saw Wicked on Broadway together and always turned the volume up in the car whenever “For Good” played. The lyrics are powerful. So maybe Andrew planted that seed in our minds and had a hand in both of us wanting it to be a part of the day. Maybe he wanted it to be a part of his day, so that last song that he picked.

So, “For Good”… The song goes: “I do believe I have been changed for the better, and because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

There’s no doubt that Andrew changed me for the better and there’s no doubt that he changed me for good.

Today, give your sibling a call for me. Take a minute to think of Andrew. Wear a B+ shirt, if you have one. Share an Andrew Story with us, if you have one, or share Andrew’s Story with someone else. Do something nice for someone, even if it’s just a smile like Andrew often did to cheer people up. If you feel like it, use the hashtag we often use when posting about Andrew – #AJM15, so we can see your posts too.

I truly don’t know how I’ve lived 9 years without Andrew here and I don’t know how I’ll live 9 more, but I do know that one thing has never and will never change… I am so proud to be “Andrew’s Sister”.