My Brother Justin.

Today is my brother Justin's birthday. He would have been 33 today. I went to visit him after drill. The first thing that struck me is how much older he looks. There is a photograph on his headstone from when he was in high school. But he doesnt look the way I remember him. I'm not really sure how long it's been since I came to visit him last. I certainly hope it hasnt been more than eight or ten months. But, truth be told, it could be a year.

See, he died on October 13th, 1999. It's been eleven years. I really have difficulty believing that. In some aspects it happened yesterday. Tragic and unthinkable. My wife was pregnant with our first child, Joshua, who would be born the following Spring and bring joy back to our family.

Justin's death was very difficult to take. He was closer in age to my brother Brandon, but of course a brother is a brother. I often think I didnt get time enough to grieve. By the time it was my turn to grieve...it seemed it was too late. I wondered if I was too hard-hearted. I wondered if I was beyond feelings at times. My grief never came in wracking sobs. My grieving was intermittent and came on unexpectedly. I thought I saw him once in traffic in Salt Lake. It shocked me that it hit me so suddenly. At such an odd time, an odd way. It was just a wave of sorrow. I'll never see him again. I would say it was months after his death and I worried that perhaps this young man had seen me staring and wondered at it.

I remember my mom and dad coming home. They'd lost him in New Orleans. My parents were attending a conference for my father's work. Both my brothers had invited themselves along, and Stacey and I had stayed home. I had a horrible feeling that we should stay home. Besides, Stacey would not be allowed to fly in her condition. I came back to work after lunch one day, and the secretary looked pale. She ushered me back to my cubicle at the top of the County building and I remember the yellow sticky with my father's cell phone number. I remember that call. I remember his voice. My father's voice. The cracking in his voice. The obvious disbelief and horror at the coming hours and the choices they would have to make for him medically.

I remember bringing my brother Brandon to our home in Tooele. He arrived a day before my parents. They had things to do with the mortuary in New Orleans and were going to accompany the body back to Salt Lake. I remember thinking it was my responsibility to be strong for my parents and my brother. I think that's why I never got to say goodbye properly.

I recall my dad's old Navy buddy and his wife coming in from Wisconsin. I recall my cousins Jason and Jared. I recall my aunt Dee Dee. I remember my mom almost catatonic, but coherent enough to give her testimony of the hereafter, the Resurrection, and the Atonement.

I uh...have visited his grave on and off. Not nearly as often as I think a brother should. I've tried to come on the obvious days. His birthday, like today, the day of his passing. Sometimes I've come just because I've missed him. I think he's forgiven me for being such a horrible brother at times. I wish I had invited him along more with my friends. I wish I had been so much kinder. I wish I had protected him, instead of feeling like I had to toughen him up. He really was a sensitive kid. He would fight only when cornered and had no choice. But he was kind by very nature.

He had a problem with alcohol and drugs as well. But the more that time goes by, the more I forget that. I was so worried about him. But today, I saw the picture on his headstone. He seems so much more refined. He looked really handsome today. His face more elongated, more mature than I ever remembered. For a time I think I looked at the picture for so long, that he started to look like a stranger to me. I miss him today. I really do.

As I sat there, all I could do was write, "We miss you. Happy Birthday" in the snow at my feet. The snow was beginning to thaw and the starlings flew overhead and took respite in the giant leafless cottonwoods near the road. I looked at the lath next to his headstone and noticed one near each headstone down the line. No doubt to mark the headstones in the event of a snow which may cover them from view. There were tracks from a backhoe in the snow cutting deep into the grass near the entrance. Another family had recently buried their loved one nearby.

I sat there as long as I dared. I bent down to wipe the hardwater stains from his picture and to feel the dark granite stone. I really had nothing to say. I just miss him. I thought about all the things I wish we had been able to do together. I had missed the last of his teens while I was in the service and failed to make those precious memories for which I now yearn for.

I made my way back to my truck and as I left, I turned to wave. For a moment, the grief poured over me, and I felt it as long as it would stay. As I drove home, nothing on the radio would match the mood. The tin-sounding speakers of my little pickup just could not find the words to cover the moment alone there. Every platitude and cliche' about wasted youth, good dying young, and missing someone somehow seemed empty. The truth is, my grief, my missing him. I think he knows. I am not sure he wants us in continual grief. I'm certain he longs too for the day of reuniting. I imagined on my way home, that he has matured. I imagine him on the Lord's errand. I imagine him very wise now. I imagine him watching some of my recent successes and failures. I imagine him hurting when we hurt, laughing when we laugh. I imagine him now strong and straight and confident.

I miss my brother. I know that we all miss him differently. I've seen my mother near break-down and beyond. I've seen my father retract inside and finally a few years back even begin to smile again. Most of the smiles I have seen are because of my children. Because of their own growth. Of the new Spring. Of the new green and vibrant growth they represent to them.

I can't imagine what it is to lose a child. I can't imagine how it feels to wonder if you could have possibly done anything differently. To wonder if you couldnt affect the outcome even a little. To squeeze out one more day or go back in time and savor that last perfect one. You know, life has a funny way of continuing. Those moments of grief never fully leave. They just reduce in frequency, but the intensity always remains the same. I choose to think of those moments of a promise. That longing, that hurt, that pain draws us onward. Keeps us focused, keeps us believing in a higher power, something beyond self.

Today my footprints are in the snow and they may linger for the coming days. The cold snow and leafless trees are fleeting. Beneath the snow the grass is green still. Inside the cottonwoods even now the sap stirs and plans for Spring. I miss my brother. I know he misses us. I think as I left and had no words that I long for that day too. The day I'll see what he's become. I can't wait to confide in him. I can't wait to let him know how much he meant to me as a brother and as a friend. I can't wait for that friendship to fully mature. I can't wait to see that fleeting pain on my parents' faces vanish when all are made whole and the Savior comes again.

I hope at that time, when all things are known, when He Who is Risen calls us forth, that he will be there at my side, to welcome me in and show me what he's learned while going on ahead. I believe that just as the trees appear dead and lifeless, inside the deep recesses their thick and heavy sap holds the power to shoot forth life again in the coming Spring. The Savior's plan extends to us all. When we are gone from this world and appear to be as dust, a new Spring will await us. Through His power and through the promise of the Resurrection we will again know what it is to breathe life again. Just as the cottonwoods will bud and again provide shade and their heavy boughs will support the green leaves of new life, we too will enjoy the promise of a new and brighter day.

I love you Justin. I miss you. You are and will be, my friend and my brother. I am so very thankful for the Savior. For all that He has promised. I am saddened of course that I cannot see my brother immediately. But I am confident that I will see him again. I look forward to the Springtime of the Lord. When we are all called forth again. I look forward to seeing my brother. I look forward to seeing the changes in his face, and embracing him close. The way that I now wish I had taken the time to do.

I have no way to close, only that I have total faith that it will be so. I know and believe our Heavenly Father's promises to us. I know that He will keep them. I know that as we are bound together and families in his Holy Temple that these ties cannot be broken so long as we live according to His word. I strive daily to be worthy of those promises. I love our Savior, I believe in our Savior, I believe that if I were to see Him I would fall upon my knees and weep at His very feet for all that he has done for me. I love Him, I need Him. I look forward to the realization of all that He has promised. He truly is the Prince of Peace, Counselor, and Friend to me and I haven't words comparable to the feeling evoked by all that He has done for me. I am unsure why He has extended such love and mercy to me but I am thankful beyond my capacity to say.

I look forward to seeing my brother Justin. I look forward to a removal of that sadness that I yearned to feel today. I ache for the day when that sadness will be felt no more, and we can again walk side by side as brothers and friends. I miss you Justin. I am sorry I never took the time to be the brother I should have been for you. All that I can say is that I took that time for granted, and that I yearn for the day when we can again be friends. I promise to visit a little more often. Though I know you're not there, it's all I can do to continue remembering you as you were, and remind me of what you most certainly will be. I will see you then, and this time I hope that you will come everywhere with me. I have so many things I would like to share with you and look forward to that glorious day when all is returned anew. Until then, I love you.