A Response from Robby

February 25, 2015 

The thing about loving someone in Heaven is that it can feel like such a one-sided love.

I like to share about Robby on Facebook, Instagram, and on this blog, but I feel like people might interpret this sharing as exploiting my brother's memory or asking for attention. Like maybe I use him to get likes or something. I would hate for people to think that.

What's worse, is that I feel like Robby might perceive my actions as disingenuous or something. I don't know. His opinion of me really matters to me. Whatever I may or may not believe, I do believe that our loved ones watch us.

More than anything I want to do right by my brother. I want to share his memory and keep it alive without exploiting it. That's something that's hard to do in a world where we are conditioned to want to see how many people approve of what we are doing or posting on social media.

On February 25, 2015 I wrote my first (and currently only) letter directly to Robby. 

I had been sitting at the kitchen table reading a book when I got up and went to my room.

I was just overwhelmed with a need to talk to my brother. TO my brother. Not about him. I felt like he was unhappy with me or something. Like maybe he didn't love me. I don't know why.

I've shared before that my moms says that Robby visits her in her dreams, but that I don't really believe that our loved ones really "visit" us. I think still kind of think our brains give us what we most want.

I haven't ever had a sign from Robby or God directly to me. Not a single sign that I haven't been able to find a way to credit to my own imagination. It's been horrible to feel like my brother doesn't love me, or like I'm not close enough to God to get these signs and messages.

I wrote Robby a letter in a blank notebook:

I miss you, Robby. I miss you all of the time. I swear I don't post about you just for attention. I feel that way sometimes. I feel like you hate me. I feel like you think I'm not genuine or something. Or that you think I'm self-centered. I sometimes feel like you don't love me. I love you. I really do think about you all of the time. Mom and Dad are so sad. Robby, they are so so different. It's hard to be with them sometimes. You are all they think about and I do get jealous. I feel like your death made me worse. I feel like maybe it made me meaner. I see Mom and Dad and I see that they are closer to God. I feel like I'm even farther than I was before. 

I don't want you to hate me, Robby. I don't want you to think that I use you to get attention. I mean, I guess that the attention is nice, but I don't want that kind of attention. This sounds stupid and awful, but I would rather people be happy for me or even jealous of me. I don't like people feeling sorry for me like I'm a loser. 

I really do miss you, Robert. I don't know why I feel so insincere about everything that I say. I hate feeling like you doubt me. I love you and I hope that you know that. I love you. I love you, I love you, and I miss you so much. I miss our life. It was so good. 

I didn't tell anyone what I wrote. Actually, at the time I felt stupid. I didn't want to admit to my parents that I thought Robby was upset with me, because I didn't want to find out that they were upset with me too or something. I tucked the journal away and never planned on sharing it with anyone.

A few hours later... 

Brian was quizzing me for an exam when I heard my mom crying and she called out to me.

"Natalie, come look at what I found," she said.

She had Robby's wallet. After he died we never took anything out of it. We left it just as he had left it. He had thirty-six dollars, his license, some golf course cards, a Sports Clips punch card (he was one haircut short of a half-price haircut), his debit card, and something we hadn't noticed before:

A picture of me. 

Robby had a picture of me tucked into his wallet. It was the only picture he had in there. I remember giving him the picture during the summer of 2012. I had some wallet sizes left over from the pictures I sent to my (now) husband in Afghanistan, and I gave one to Robby.

Robby had put my picture in his wallet, and he kept me, only me, with him. My sweet teenage brother. Nobody else was in there.

Just me. His sister.

I broke down.

I showed my mom what I had written just a few hours earlier. We both cried. My tears were of happiness.

Not Just Coincidence, but God's Perfect Timing. 

Why would my mom choose to look through Robby's wallet that night? Why would we find the picture then? We hadn't noticed it before. My mom keeps the wallet hidden in a safe place. We never mess with it.

It was almost like God and Robby were saying, "Look at this, Natalie. Stop being so dumb. Of course I love you."

It's the most direct sign I've ever experienced. It's something that can only have been meant for me. It is a sure sign of Robby's love for me.

It was a perfect reminder at the perfect moment.

Coincidence isn't that good. I can't explain this one away as a manifestation of my imagination. It really feels like a direct message to me. A real and tangible sign from God and my brother.

I deliberated whether or not I should share this. I finally decided to because it seems selfish to keep such a great moment with God and my brother to myself. I freely share about everything else, why not this? Why not share a moment when God rained his love on me and picked me up in a moment of weakness? I've shared about a time when God didn't answer my prayers. Why not share a moment when God answered my prayer so directly? Why not share the proof of my brother's love for me? Why not share my love for him?

I've been blessed, plain and simple. It's not a crime to share my joy or my sadness. It's not a source of shame.

He remembered us in our low estate. His love endures forever. Psalm 136:23

The Fourth of March

I'm finding a pattern. 

My hardest days seem to come at the same time every year.

Robby died on September 8th and the weeks surrounding that day are the hardest. They are weeks that are filled with terrible memories and regrets and what ifs. I started this blog during those weeks. It felt so good to release my thoughts into the world. It felt important to remind people of Robby. It seemed wrong to keep his memory to myself. It felt bad to hide my grief from people. It felt like I had to let people know why the month of September isn't a happy one for me.

Robby loved Christmas more than any other holiday. Like most kids. But Robby didn't just love the gifts; he loved the atmosphere. Christmas is hard for me. I want to be happy, but it just feels off. Christmas was our first big event after Robby died and it was not good. I found the same to be true this year. My parents and I all put on good faces. My husband and I took our Christmas picture. My parents refused to take one. Their family is not complete. It feels wrong for them to take a picture they say. I wrote a blog then and posted about Robby on Facebook then. Christmas is a hard time.

Robby was born on March 4th, 1997. The weeks surrounding that day are so hard. They are weeks when we should have been celebrating him. This year he would have turned 18. A milestone in anyone's life. We don't get to throw him a party. We don't get to buy him a lottery ticket. We don't get to take him out for lunch or eat cake. I feel like I could talk about him for hours during this time. It was the same last year. I wanted to shout to people that an important day was coming up that they didn't even know about. A day that would go uncelebrated. A day that would be full of tears and regret. I want to write about Robby and share pictures of Robby endlessly. I want people to know who he was and to celebrate him, or at least to know that someone is missing from the world.

March is the month that Robby was born, my dad was born, and I was born. March used to be a month of celebration for my family.

The last full day I spent with Robby alive and well was July 4th. I hate that holiday now. I didn't know it was going to be my last day with him. I yelled at him that day. He ran a red light and I yelled at him. When we got home he came into my room and apologized for running the red light and said he didn't want me to be mad. He said he didn't want to be in a fight, and then he offered me a hug. We hugged and made up. He was always the bigger person. I didn't know how lucky I was in that moment. I didn't deserve a brother as kind and mature as Robby. The Fourth of July is a hard time.

I have a terrible day full of bitter, sometimes bittersweet, memories for each season. I know now after this first year that they will come like clockwork every year. Maybe the sting of them will wear off as the time goes by. I don't know, I don't even know if I want the sting to wear off. It would feel disloyal to him, I think.

I miss Robby and I want the world to know it. I want the world to know that March 4th is his day. It's hard not to break down during the weeks surrounding his birthday. The anticipation builds up in the worst of ways. I dread the day. I dread my brother's birthday. It's an unnatural feeling.

I struggle to find a way to celebrate him and to honor him.

I miss him. To express that is the only way I know to keep him alive.

Robby's First Birthday

Dear God

Why did you do this to us? We aren't perfect. I know that. I have sin in my heart that I fight. My parents have sin in their heart. I know that this happens to so many people. I know that we aren't being singled out. I know this in the deepest part of my heart. I know that you give and you take away from good people. I just don't know why. I know that I shouldn't ask. I know that it shouldn't be something that I fight in my heart. I struggle so  much with matching the God who took my brother away too early with the God who is my Father and my protector and my guide.

In my rational mind I know that taking Robby wasn't punishment. I know that you wouldn't cut short his life to punish me or my mom or my dad. But my mind and my heart aren't always rational. I struggle staying on the course you want me to be on. I struggle with emotions that I don't want to have.

I struggle with doubt in my heart. I hate it. I hate feeling doubt creep into my mind. I know that it is the devil using my thoughts to take me away from you, but I wonder if it makes you angry. Do you get angry with me when I think of doubting you? I can't help it sometimes. On my hardest days it's so easy to feel like you have left me. It's easy to feel like you were never here with me at all. It's easy too think that a God who loves us wouldn't put us through pain, so there must be no God at all. I hate these thoughts. I feel guilty and terrible.

I think of Robby's time in the hospital. I cried the entire time I was there. I prayed. I begged you. I bargained with you. I spent hours on my knees in the hospital chapel and you didn't answer my prayer. Was my faith not enough? Was I not humble enough? Was I not strong enough to deserve my biggest most important prayer be answered? I wonder all of the time, God. I wonder if it was me. I doubt my faith sometimes. I wonder what makes the faith of other people better. More worthy of an answered prayer.

Sometimes I comfort myself. I say that Robby must have been praying too. Maybe he saw Heaven. Maybe he decided he would rather be there with you. Maybe you chose his prayers over mine. If you did that, I wouldn't be angry. Maybe you were sparing him more pain. The doctors told us that he would suffer. They told us he wouldn't have his legs if he ever came back. I know he wouldn't have wanted that.

I struggle when I see bad people. People who I judge. I know I'm not supposed to, but my human heart struggles. I judge people who I think are worse than I am and worse than my family. People who I don't think deserve to have the families they have. People who take them for granted. Why didn't you take their families away? Why do they get to live? Then I feel guilty for taking Robby for granted. I know I'm no better than the worst people on this earth. My evil judgement makes me just as bad. I know that only you can judge us, but I struggle just the same. I'm sorry, God. I want you to clean my heart and mind of these feelings. I want you to take away my resentment and jealousy.

I struggle with heartbreak when I see other families who are good people. I hate to see them go through what we go through. It's a club that none of us want to be a part of. I wish you wouldn't take from us, God. I wish you wouldn't take the young. I wish that you would heal all the sickness and suffering. I don't know everything you know. I know that I'm not supposed to. I know I'm not supposed to question you, God, but I can't always control my thoughts. Help me, God. Help me in my faith. help me trust you and trust your plan for us all.

I love you, I know that I do. I know that through Jesus Christ I will see Robby again. I will see my parents be whole again in Heaven. I wish it was now. Sometimes I wish you would have taken all of us.

I love you, God. I know that you know what is best. I know that my thoughts aren't always right, but I do ultimately believe in you and your love. I know that my faith is not perfect, but I know your grace. I know that you can forgive me of my heart's struggles.

Please forgive me, Lord. Help me when my mind and heart are weakest. Help me keep my eyes fixed on you and on Heaven. This is my biggest and most important prayer now.

Love always,

Natalie