For our March Blog, Anne wanted to share this beautiful message of life!
Written in honor of Megan from her little brother, Mathew:
Megan, you were the most influential person to everyone in our family. Even though you were severely handicapped, you touched all our hearts.
You showed us all at a young age how to care for someone and what life really means. Whenever we had a bad day, went through a breakup, or were just tired, you were there. You enjoyed being rocked and it became therapeutic for us as well.
No matter the magnitude of our anxiety, you somehow took it all away with your loving touch. It was as if you reminded us how important life is and how well we had it compared to you.
As for me personally, I was the younger sibling. I grew up with you always “being around”. I found myself bitter at a young age. Bitter, because I had to stay home and watch you so our parents could work. Bitter, that I could not participate in after-school activities, and had to wait to go outside and play with friends over summer vacations. Bitter, that you couldn’t just be “normal”.
I even, at one point, thought that the challenge of caring for you was a stressor on our family and that you were to blame for a lot of our anguish. This was all at a young age for me. As I grew older, I realized how wrong I was. I realized how much you affected us all, how impactful you were in our lives. I would hear time and time again from people how mature I am for my age. how caring and nurturing of a person I am and one day I will be a great father. I’ve also become a role model in the community. And I have you to thank for this.
As for the family, I used to think you needed us. However, I realize now that we really needed you. You were our everything.
I strongly believe that one of the reasons I’m so jolly and easy going is because I’ve seen what you went through and it leaves me with no excuse to complain about what I’ve been given. I cannot thank you enough for humbling me to that extent.
You will always be our princess, our peanut, our Meggie. You are no longer bound by a wheelchair. You are walking, running-no, flying. You are dancing with Mom. I cannot wait to see you again, to see you without a disability, to see you in joy, and pure bliss. We’ll be able to hear your voice, as it should have always sounded, and we’ll be able to see you how God always did.
I will miss holding you tightly as if I couldn’t give you enough of my love and affection. You weren’t supposed to live past 1-year-old. You lived to 30.
We will never forget you. Because of you, we are people who spread love and affection to others. For a person that was rarely out of the house, you have no idea how many you really affected. The lessons you taught us continue to reach others and inspire. Your story will live on forever.
As much as I look forward to being able to rock you again in Heaven, I know that won’t happen, because, no more rocking is needed. When my day comes, we will walk, side-by-side, into God’s kingdom.
Thank you for showing me the beauty of life, and thank you for showing me the beauty of you.
Your little brother, Mathew