Josh

        There was this kid in the youth group I ran in middle school. Nice kid, always laughing and never causing any problems for anyone. He was quiet most of the time. One day during youth group, his cousin told me he played the piano. There happened to be a piano there. I asked him to play it for us. He got up and calmly played this beautiful piece of art that also kind of hurt me. I immediately liked him.

        Years later, he was in and out of the youth group. He came on a trip to my mother in law's cabin, and road shotgun with me on the way. We exchanged favorite songs from favorite bands on our ipods and he eventually played me an original after I had asked him if he still played piano. It was perfect. It was melodic, a little sad, and also catchy. From that trip, we created a band together, and would never stop playing music together. He would become a brother to me.

        I don't choose many friends. I don't open up to many people. It's a character flaw in me that forced me to open up to everyone here. But I choose to spend my time with very few people. Over years of shooting ideas back and forth and allowing each other's heart's and insecurities to be exposed to each other, you learn to trust that person in a very deep way. If you don't understand that, go try and sing a song that just popped into your head to your best friend as serious and as good as you can. We were both vulnerable. That's why I couldn't make any music without him. He's also viciously more talented than me.

        Then Will died. There was Josh (Also Will's friend). Then Joe died. There was Josh, sitting and making music with me mere hours after, during the most gut-wrenching and desperate moments of my life. He played the piano as I cried through singing lyrics to a song I never wanted to write. He saw me the entire way through. He stayed and played. Not a lot of people keep playing while the ship is going down, but he did. I don't grieve well. Some people figure out more appropriate ways and move forward. I fall all the way apart. He was silently picking up pieces.

I wrote about Laura. I wrote about Andy. Tonight is about Josh. My brother.









Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Those Christmas Lights

        They don't see what's broken inside of you because your broken parts are part of your perfection to them. They are family, and to them, you cannot be replaced in a world where everything is replaced.

        I've always said that you can choose your family. This isn't popular with people who have great families and I get that. Laura has a great family, and they are always there for each other. Others who's families could fit into a small room may see it differently. I had two blood relatives at my wedding. My mom, whom I love, and my brother, whom I love. I think that family organically happens with life. You meet these people that you like for one reason or another, and they end up being uncles or aunts to your children. Laura has friends that are family to us and so do I. I think it's beautiful. I think the world is disconnected and separated into terrible categories and labels. It's a really nice feeling to know that someone in this world loves you no matter what. That they are gonna take your side in this world, and kick your ass in private.

        I got to do something really fun and cool today. I got to take the ice where the Red Wings play. I got to play hockey with my friends. We were excited and came out to the ice early to look around and take pictures. As I looked into the huge arena, I got to see all of the families of my friends that came to celebrate a really good day with their dad, or brother, sister, friend, or child. Watching them all take pictures with their family put things into persepective for me. I've been in a bit of gloom this year as I usually am this time of year, but watching these people love each other deeply is a reminder that this life is so great. It's great that I see these terrible things at work, which I've desensitized myself to, then come home to a little boy and two girls that don't see my faults, or forget them quickly. And a 19 year old girl who will drop whatever she is doing to see me. I'ts a warm place. Today felt like Christmas. Any day that feels like Christmas is a good day.

        It is way too easy to focus on the negative. Laura and I find ourselves thinking this way so much and we often remind each other that although the negative is destructive, the positive is a really good reason to keep smiling...to keep forging ahead...to keep reaching our hands out to other people. I'm so thankful for the people in my life that have reached out their hands to me when I needed help to get up. You all know who you are. I hope I've told you how great you are. If not, I will.

        I went to lunch with Will and Joe's mom and dad last week. I struggle when seeing them during the holidays because I don't know what to say to them. I think about my own kids and what it would be like to lose them and I cannot figure out a way to reconcile the fact that those two are still standing...and smiling. As my brother's mother was taking me home, I got this overwhelming sadness all of the sudden that she was going to drop me off and that would be that for Christmas. I had this feeling of dread that I had wasted the time I got to spend with them feeling uneasy. It was at this moment that I remembered that I slept under their roof probably a thousand times. I ate at their table. Their dad took me to canoing trips with them.

        In the car, and all at once, I remembered that they are my family and they chose me as much as I chose them. I felt gratitude. I felt love. I felt sadness, but also togethernes in that sadness. I felt so thankful, because at some point in our history, they stopped seeing me as this loud and often annoying kid and they started seeing me as family.

I can't wait to see the rest of my family this Christmas.

     







Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z