Thursday, February 27, 2020

But Love, Nonethless.



 Loving someone with Borderline Personality Disorder is such a complex and confusing feeling.
As some say, Love is a choice. When you get married, you choose to LOVE the person despite their flaws and despite YOUR own expectations. It’s choosing to love someone for who they are and where they are. Not for what they can give you.  

This still holds true when you love someone with Borderline Personality Disorder. The exception is that when your mental health and physical well being are being jeopardized, you have to make a very bold decision to leave an abusive situation or remain in a very toxic relationship. And any outsider can tell you “Leave!!” but you know that your emotions are wrapped up with love, disappointment, hurt, and a feeling of being absorbed by the other person. 

How can you love someone who continually hurts you, time and time again. How can you be so blind and dense to not see what everyone else sees?  And the times you say “Enough is Enough,” you somehow second guess your decision and think that, maybe, just maybe you overreacted. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you remember. Maybe you are the one that is making a big deal out of something so small. 

Your judgement is cloudy. Your sense of reality is skewed. 

This is the power of abuse.  How it plays a constant psychological game with your mind, making you believe that it was just a bad day and things can be different. So you forgive, and try again.

Our souls are created for love. And after all, the person still has lovable traits, even if all that remains lovable is the illusion of who we wish they could be. 
 
When your loved one is a lover, a partner or a spouse, the world is telling you.. “Leave!”

What if the abuser is your parent?

When it’s your mother or father, people tell you, “It’s your mother and father. They are just being a parent. Just shake it off. Just shrug it off. Forgive and move forward.” Time. And time. Again.
So what do you do when you have nobody cheering you on to leave? When you don’t understand why it pains you so much when you do? Like it feels like a huge part of your soul has been ripped out?

 You mourn their loss. You mourn the loss of what SHOULD have been, but because of their mental health, can NEVER be.

You are left feeling a mix of emotions of the parent who would show you how fun or loving they could be but how incredibly toxic and all-consuming their fire is. You desire to love that person, but every time you inch forward, you get too close to the fire, and bounce back with the pangs of being scorched by the very essence of who they are. 

I hate the disease that has consumed my mother. The very fact that she got stuck at an emotional state that is of the child  who experienced repeated abuse at a young age, who has no logic, no remorse, no sense of responsibility, or what is appropriate or not. And she can't see the errors.

I love my mother. So very deeply. So the choice to put a boundary, which most times means vacillating between little to no contact is not made easily. It hurts. I yearn for a mother who is all embracing. A mother who understands that during a crisis in my life, I need her to just be there, and not bring unnecessary toxicity. 

When my baby was diagnosed with cancer, I needed my mom. I needed her to sit with me. To cry with me. To allow me space to grieve. To allow me to manage my family affairs how I choose without being reproached about my decisions. To put her conflict and her paranoia and victimization far, FAR, away from me because I am at my breaking point with fighting for my baby’s life. I need her to give me unwavering support and give grace in my missteps. But she can't. So she won't.

Instead, when I set a boundary to her toxicity, I am made to feel like I am in the wrong, not only by her, but other family members. Yet my mind says “YOU are RIGHT!! BOUNDARIES!!” At the end of the day, my mental health matters more, even more so in a time of crisis. And I won't apologize for loving me enough first.

I try. I try so hard to have a relationship. But I also inch in very, very slowly, knowing that her capacity to be a healthy mother is very limited. And reminding myself to not be disappointed because I should know better when she lets me down. 

But I mourn either way. 

No contact? Sure. When necessary. But it’s hard to reconcile the feeling of love and disdain in one person. And the added element of being a Christian brings an entire level of complexity.

My mother is a beautiful person inside. Dying for love and acceptance. Wounded to her core. But her death grip is suffocating and I stay at arms length, and she feels it. I feel it. And we are both left mourning. A love that is complex. A love that you can’t fully walk away from, at least not unscathed.

But love, nonetheless.

Monday, November 5, 2018

Where were you, Lord?



I love rainbows. I mean, I. REALLY. LIKE. RAINBOWS.  Nature's TRUE beauty. I love when I get the chance to witness one at the edge of a storm or after the storm's worst has blown over, but the clouds are still a little gray, and you see signs that the sun is trying to shine through.

The other day, I was driving and I SWEAR I was driving at the end of the rainbow. It was something unlike I have ever experienced. It was hard to see the road before me because I kept getting the rainbow shining in my eyes just feet in front of me. Sure! You could say it was the spray from the tires kicking up rain water from the highway, but I have never experienced this in the my 18 years of driving!  And as I made my way out of the rainbow blinding my view, I looked out my right window  and saw dark thunder clouds fading into a light gray sky. It was grey yet sunny all at once and there she was. The mystical Rainbow. Right at the edge where the dark sky faded into light.

You know. The rainbow just like the one mentioned in Genesis 9:13:

I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.

So maybe I wasn't worried about a literal flood, but man, in the figurative sense, my soul experienced a flood.  A flood of emotions and sorrow none like I have experienced before.  And I have seen more rainbows this year since my brother passed than I have my whole life.

Many of you know that my Catholic faith, and embracing it in college at the ripe age of 22 has been THE life altering event that has changed my entire soul. My faith changed how I viewed myself, it changed my life aspirations, it helped me see success as more than status and financial wealth. And frankly, the Lord saved my life, in every way possible. 

On my way back to see Eric at the hospital, my husband accidentally changed the radio station and it landed on Catholic Radio. I haven't listened to it in soooo long, and I was so lost in thought that I didn't even realize it was airing on our radio, but when something they were speaking about caught my attention, I asked him to turn up the radio. I was hoping for a message. And I know I mentioned before (in a previous post) that I heard the host discussing praying with EXPECTATION for miracles. Believing and EXPECTING that miracle. 

And somewhere along the car ride, maybe the host said it, maybe it was the Holy Spirit inspiring some thought, I know that car ride, I walked away EXPECTING a miracle but also hearing (either literally or as a thought):

 "Will you still pursue Me if I don't grant you this miracle? Will you still love me? Will I still be the One to guide you? Will you abandon me in your hurt?"

I knew right then that even if Eric didn't make it, that the Lord did not reveal Himself to me and change my life so that I would abandon His Truth in the deepest hurts of my life.  Somehow I had to find the strength of mind to "Lean on Him" because I wasn't going to get consolation anywhere else. 

And maybe because I chose to sing "Thy Will be Done" through my soul, even though my mind battled to align itself, I began to see that God's will was being fulfilled even through the pain. 

But throughout the week that Eric passed and weeks following, God inspired my heart and mind with heavenly consolations that reminded me of His goodness. Please allow me to share a few: 

The week prior to Eric passing away, he and Megan (with their newborn) joined me on an errand. And that day it was raining, so we all rushed to get into our cars. Eric had to work so he drove separately from Megan. Eric, being crazy, was out there in his work shirt with NO jacket on. But as Megan was rushing to get into her own car, Eric cried out "I love you Megan." She must have not heard him because he repeated himself, a little more loudly this time, "Megan, I Love You!". 

I remember thinking that day, at that moment: Eric really loves Megan. I have NEVER in all my years of seeing him married, dating, etc, heard him say aloud "I love you". And I felt so happy for him as I drove away thinking about how happy he was.  So thank you Lord, for letting me witness this.

Another consolation has to do with Eric's arrival to the hospital. April 7th.  He arrived to the hospital exactly ONE year after his mother in law was last admitted to the hospital before she passed away. I knew that there couldn't be a coincidence. I was hoping for a miracle for him to wake up and tell me all about heaven, but I also knew that if he were to go to his Eternal Home, that she would be there to greet him and welcome him. I don't see God as a cruel father, so this 'coincidence" was masterfully designed. 

When Eric was pronounced dead a few days later, they did not know when his organ donation would take place. In fact, they said, the OR was so booked, it could be anywhere between 2-3 days. When they finally notified us the day of that they were anticipating his operation time to begin at 5 pm and to arrive early to say goodbye for the last time before he would be rolled away, I had no idea that Fort Worth would be lighting the downtown skyscrapers in Blue and Green in honor of Organ Donation. They were scheduled to light up at 5 PM, coinciding with Eric's donation. Again, to some, it's just coincidence, but to me, it was a good and loving Father giving me another heavenly consolation to rest in that THIS was HIS will. That Eric's life had a purpose and He was present, with us, with Eric in the operation room, in the last moments of his life. 

The day of Eric's funeral, I was so moved by the outpouring of our friends and family and the community around us. Eric's funeral Mass was beautiful. We proceeded into the church as Eric's closest friends pushed the casket draped in a beautiful white Knights of Columbus "flag/cover". The experience of walking under a tunnel of swords held up high by the Knights of Columbus who dressed in their regalia, with feathered hats and soldier like black, red and white suits, was an experience that left me in awe! I thought to myself in those moments as we proceeded to the front altar, this is only a glimpse of the beauty that Eric would be experiencing as he headed towards his final destination: The throne of God. And then I thought to myself, this is SO EXTRA, but Eric would be so darn PROUD! He would be boasting about this to others if he could ( and he probably will when I see him again). 

I searched for God's words and wisdom in music, in movies, in life's little moments. I couldn't figure out why Eric had died, only to be brought back to life after 24 minutes of no oxygen, only to die, yet again. And One day it kinda clicked as I asked my husband to watch 90 Minutes in Heaven (a true story). The Lord spoke to my heart through this movie. His words to me were:

 "Nothing is impossible for Me. If it were My will to restore your brother to full health, I COULD. I could have reversed the effects of the hypoxia, REVERSED the "IRREVERSIBLE" brain damage of having no oxygen for at least 24 minutes. Despite what errors the doctors, paramedics, first responders could have done, I am GREATER and could have healed his body completely.  I have done it before and will do it again, but I have other plans for Eric."  

And that Truth sunk in deep. And that truth brought me peace. Believe it or not. It was the one thing I PERSONALLY needed to know in my soul to accept and move to the next stage of grief.

Weeks after Eric's funeral, we celebrated my niece's first communion. As I sat in the far back of the grand and beautiful church of St. Francis of Assissi (the Saint and prayer on Eric's memorial cards), the priest was asking the many 2nd graders about the mass and communion. For those who aren't Catholic, we believe in transubstantiation: the bread and wine TRULY become the FLESH AND BLOOD of Jesus Christ. We call it "The source and summit of our faith". It may seem mind blowing, because it is! And what about Jesus' miracles isn't, right? 

The ONE thing that really stood out was something the priest asked the children:  What do you hear when you walk up to the altar to receive communion? .......and nobody answered so he gave them the answer: "singing, much like the angels and saints are doing so at this time. 

In the Catholic world, Mass is where Heaven and Earth meet. I encourage you to read about the mystery of the faith! But the beauty of what he said "What do you hear when you walk up to the altar to receive Communion? ...Singing!" ....."What do you Hear when you walk up to the altar to receive JESUS, FLESH AND BLOOD!.....? .....Singing of the saints and angels".  Eric no longer had to receive Jesus in the veil of the Eucharist. He was LITERALLY walking through saints and angels to see JESUS, FACE to FACE! Oh what beauty!! Oh what sweet and divine consolation. I could just envision him proceeding towards the greatest love of his life, his purpose, his EVERYTHING!!


At this moment, I still struggled to accept and understand what happened to Eric and if everything had been done to save his life. Knowing that it took 9 minutes for the paramedics to arrive after he was found without breath and without a heartbeat that likely had stopped beating a couple minutes before, it made me question "WHERE WERE YOU, LORD?". When he was without oxygen for a counted 24 minutes: WHERE WERE YOU LORD?" Did the hospital rush to pronounce him dead, where was my miracle? WHERE WERE YOU LORD?!!

And His response to me was: 

It was I who led him to pull over his car, at that very storage unit. It was I who led a retired police officer/military veteran who had performed CPR on over 20 people in his career  to drive by him and see him minutes before. It was I who gave Eric strength to honk on his horn repeatedly to call someone. It was I who spared you from the guilt and the trauma to see your brother collapse before your very eyes. I who freed you from the guilt that you could have done something, when in reality, it was his time and his purpose was greater than he could accomplish alive and well. It was I who allowed him to receive his Last Rites and be surrounded by his family, friends and a PRIEST in his last minutes on Earth.  It was who gave you blessed thoughts of his home arrival! It was I who sent you little rainbows to promise you that the storm will pass and that I have been PRESENT all. along. the. way! 


So thank you Lord for ALWAYS being there. Thank you Lord for your little rainbows you have blessed me with through the storm of my grief. Thank you for answering my prayers and filling my heart with you comforting grace. You see each tear that falls and you know my the pain of my heart. You also bless me joy amidst the sorrow, because ultimately, my heart's desire has always been to LIVE for you and to be a VESSEL of your love and grace, despite my human failings.   

So I end this entry with the chorus to the Raider Awakening song from Eric's retreat when I did P Staff.  I hadn't heard it in years and in the month that Eric passed away, I desperately longed to remember what it was and one day while I poured out tears and my lip quivered uncontrollably from how badly I hurt, I got this little rainbow when my radio went crazy and played this song the minute I turned it on: 


I am nothing without Your love
I'm unworthy but Your death has been enough
I'm completed by Your touch,
But I feel like I've been given so much so I thank You,
I thank You

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

Having to Say Goodbye to Eric

Devastated. Paralyzed. Blindsided.

These words don't even begin to describe how I have felt since finding out about Eric.

Two weeks prior to Eric's passing, I was taking a shower when I was struck with a thought:

What if one of your siblings were to pass away? How would you handle it? Would you still love God or be mad?

 As a stay-at-home Mom, I don't often get time to think and when I do have time to think, I am too tired and tune out to the good old TV. But I get thinking time when I shower, and this thought really struck me. I thought, MAYBE it's my post partum anxiety. I seem to get super anxious about life and death after all my babies, and I had a 3 month old, so I chalked up the thought to Post Partum anxiety/blues. But not before I got lost in the idea and fear of it.  I remember thinking, what if? Who would likely go? How? How would I react? I have never lost anyone incredibly close so I had been blessed to never experience grief, so would I be in shock, would I CRY?? Would I go into self preservation mode and deal through this crisis like I do with other things: QUICK and CALM and LOGICAL. I then self talked myself out of my anxiety. "It's your WHAT-IF's. It's just anxiety. It's just fear." I looked at all those around me and reasoned "Death of a sibling isn't likely. It's likely to be y our parents first". Maybe this was the Holy Spirit breathing an idea into my mind and heart that would prepare me for days to follow.

It's been six months and I have avoided writing about those days and the grief that followed. Partly because I don't have time to write and process all the feelings when I have three kids under the age of 4, but because I couldn't handle the emotional and mental beating.  So I will attempt to describe what unfolded and how I have processed.

It was April 7th. We had gotten a very late cold front, so it was unusually cold and dreary that spring day. 

The day Eric was found unresponsive, I had just finished texting Megan (Eric's wife) about a design element I was looking at incorporating into my home. Immediately after I texted her, she calls me and says "I guess you didn't know, but they found Eric passed out (or something along these lines) in his car and are taking him to the hospital." I was in shock but immediately I went into panic mode trying to get dressed, telling myself not to freak out because he could be fine, but wrestled with the awful pit in my stomach that wanted to consume my entire system and have me melt down immediately.

I knew I had to go immediately to the hospital, regardless of how big or small the reason for him being found in his car. I gathered the hospital information from Megan as to where we needed to go. He happened to be in the Fort Worth area which is literally an hour away from my home and equally just as far from his home. Megan was at home with their newborn when she received the call. She told me her dad was on his way to pick her up and she would be heading to the hospital immediately upon her father's arrival.

I was at home alone with all three of my kids waiting for Ricky to bring back some lunch. At this point, Ricky was unaware of what happened. I immediately started getting dressed as it w when I received the call while I as around noon, (we drag our feet to get dressed in our home on the weekends). I first made a call to my mother in law to ask if she could rush over because Eric was in the hospital and I had no idea as to his status. I then hung up and called Ricky to rush home from picking up lunch because we had to leave to Fort Worth to see Eric immediately.

Those 20-30 minutes of waiting for my village to arrive were gut wrenching. Nobody had any information as to Eric's condition since we all live on the far North side of the Dallas Metroplex and Eric happened to be going to ONE job for the day somewhere outside of Fort Worth. We later found out he was found at the entrance of a storage unit in Saginaw, TX.

I had the feeling in the pit of my stomach like I have never experienced in my life. I was scared, I was anxious and knew every minute I had to wait would feel like an eternity on top of the drive there. I had to pack a diaper bag for my not yet 4 month old, and packed enough to be there for the entire day. And I began to call my remaining siblings that I knew probably didn't know anything.

God did put all things into motion that day, without a doubt.

That morning hours before the call, Ricky happened to head out the door early to go buy a few things in Dallas to transition our kids into new beds and to finish setting up Isabella's room. And as fate would have it that morning, his car radiator hose broke and he had to pull over about 10 miles from our home. His father was at the lake and his mother was thankfully at home. I kept telling Ricky that I could pick him up with the kids but he insisted in my staying at home and allowing his mother to pick him up since he was down the street from his parents' home.  This is really the first time  his truck had a need for a repair and "broken" to the point that he had to wait for a tow truck to take his car to a mechanic.

 It was a chaotic morning and Ricky literally had time to come home and pick up a very late lunch for us. On his way to pick up lunch is when I received the phone call. I can't dismiss the coincidence of having our plans changed due to the truck breaking down and the "luck" of having at least one of his parents in town. I truly believe that God's hand was in the entire day. Had that not happened, Ricky would have been much farther away and he would have had to spend additional time unloading the truck before being able to take me to the hospital.

They found him passed out.

That's what I remember hearing, though I may have interpreted her words incorrectly. Maybe she said unconscious, I don't know. At this point, I am not sure, but I remember riding in the backseat with my newborn while Ricky drove and talking to Ricky about "finding him passed out is not a good sign. It's got to be serious." And the entire ride I was thinking, "maybe they found a tumor or cancer that finally was interfering with some important functioning, so we would have an uphill battle". That was the "worst case scenario" I was expecting. I was trying to prepare myself for some bad news, but never did I anticipate how the next few hours would unfold.Never did I anticipate that it was worse than my worst case scenario.

Minutes from arriving to the hospital, my older brother, Alvaro, texted the group and said he was the first at the hospital and that they were cleaning up Eric.

 Hearing that just threw my mind into a whirl spin and I asked what he was talking about (because my mind went into panic mode). Clean up? Why would they need to clean up?

And then Alvaro texted the group that they got his heart running again but he was still not awake.

 I felt my world crashing. Never did I expect that his heart had stopped unexpectedly.

When I finally arrived to the emergency room, that's when I was told that Eric had been found "unresponsive" and that it took 24 minutes to get his heart up and running. They weren't sure what was causing it.  We were told that his prognosis was not good and that we needed to prepare for the worst.

Probably the most surreal moments I have experienced. I was definitely in shock and I didn't know how to feel. Alvaro (the realist) tried to encourage me to stay optimistic and I turned around and basically said, I want to be optimistic but I am also being a realist. Surely Eric would wake from this. He had to. He was too young. And God couldn't possibly allow Megan to have heartache so soon after her mother's death. No. Not possible.

Once they transferred him to the Cardio ICU, the neurosurgeon gathered the entire family into a  conference room filled with windows from floor to ceiling and chairs all around the room. He told us (as gently as one can) that basically Eric's brain was so severely damaged from the lack of oxygen for so long that he was certain that he had little brain function left. I believe the term was hypoxia. We wouldn't know the extent of damage or brain function until he woke up. IF he woke up.

The surgeon told us that we needed to think about "what would Eric want?" in terms of life support and organ donation.

Seeing Eric in the hospital bed was hard; tubes coming out of his nose and mouth, all sorts of electrodes attached to his scalp, so many machines at his side, the sound of a ventilator pressing air into his lungs, the soft beeping coming from the machines, all in attempt to provide us with some answers as to what happened, what may happen, and what his body was doing at that very moment.

It was hard to see my little brother in that condition.

I was afraid to leave that hospital and to leave Fort Worth. I was afraid that I would be at least an hour away from getting to his bedside if he didn't make it, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself had I not been close.  When they finally decided to cool his body, they told us we could not interact with Eric or give him any reason to move or wake. They wanted to preserve all his oxygen for the brain and allow the brain to heal without having to work hard to keep the rest of his organs functioning.

We prayed for a miracle, and hoped that God would be gracious enough to grant us the miracle.

I had to return home to get more clothes and pack a bag for my infant, so as they cooled his body, I decided to rush back home and be back within a few hours.

On our drive back,  my husband accidentally turned the radio and it landed on a Catholic radio station. I listened intently and ironically they were talking about MIRACLES. Surely, this message was for me! The host said that we ought to pray for Miracles with EXPECTATION. We expect it...which is more than HOPING, because we BELIEVE it WILL be done. So I tried to apply that to Eric. And I prayed with expectation.

We returned to the hospital and I waited with hope that Eric would  open his eyes once they were done cooling him.

That evening we decided to get a hotel nearby to allow my infant to get rest. We left very late and I finally got to close my eyes around midnight. The minute I closed my eyes, I saw the image of Eric in the hospital room, but not in his current condition, but of him standing and peaking his head from behind the hospital curtain and giving me his playful teasing smile. I immediately opened my eyes and new something was not right. Within a couple of hours, my sister called and sobbed through the words that we needed to rush back to the hospital and that they think Eric was gone but we wouldn't know until they brought him back to normal body temperature.

They almost called code blue. Eric's blood pressure had sky rocketed sometime around 4 am then bottomed out before it somehow regulated itself. But after this, there was no more brain activity being detected on the monitor and we were advised that as soon as he was warmed back to room temperature, he would likely flat-line.

We called all his friends who had just left the hospital, some back to Lubbock (5 hours away) and told them he was probably gone and if they wanted to say goodbye, that this would be the time.

They warmed him, but he never flatline. HOPE right?

Unfortunately, they ran all the tests to determine if brain death had occured. And he failed every test. His heart was in excellent condition (and continues to beat on in someone else through organ donation). But his brain no longer sent the message to his lungs to keep breathing. He no longer had the brain function to support his life and the hospital was required to call Time of Death.

Even with a Time of Death, I still clung to the hope of a miracle. With organ donation, he would be "kept alive" for up to 3 days until they roled him away into the OR. I clung to the very hope that he would wiggle his toe, move his finger, blink an eye, or even better, wake up fully. I didn't need a FULL miracle if even the small one meant that he COULD recover even if 50% to his normal state.

Three days of having to plan a funeral and hope that it was all just "in case" he didn't wake, because God SURELY would perform a miracle. He wouldn't have Eric enter into the hospital exactly 1  year after his mother-in-law for no coincidental reason, right?

Denial. It's a beast.

Friday, we were informed that they finally were able to book an OR for 5 pm that evening. A terrible thunderstorm was expected, with hail and possible tornadoes. We had to drive all the way to Fort Worth and avoid traffic on a Friday afternoon in downtown Fort Worth and hopefully make it before a terrible storm. We saw the flag flown at the hospital in honor of Eric's donation, but still I prayed that he would come to right before the final moment.

As we drove into the hospital, my sister and I, I went into a full panic attack and broke down crying. This COULD NOT be the last time I would see Eric. This could not be Goodbye. It just couldn't be.
All those days of even a little bit of hope came crumbling down and I have never felt so awful in my life. My heart was racing, my stomach in knots, I felt like throwing up, I wanted to collapse on the floor and poor out every ounce of water in my being through tears like the Niagra Falls.


I was so tired of crying. So tired of hoping. So tired of waiting for a Miracle but for it to not come: or come how I envisioned. I had to accept God's will as painful as it was. I had to say goodbye to all the time I thought we would have,  all the memories I thought we would make having our baby girls only a few months apart, and goodbye to an idea I had envisioned.

But I knew that he was still a miracle to someone else and that another family would not have to feel our pain because Eric was their miracle. His death now had more meaning to it and the cause of our grief would at least bring someone else joy and LIFE.

As they rolled Eric away through the long hall that I had walked through for days, we followed behind until they told us we could no longer follow. We saw him rolled away, but I felt proud that he was giving others another chance at life. But I was so heartbroken and in shock that this was it. This was goodbye. I would never again hear him laugh. I would never again get to get on his nerve for being a big sister and telling him to put his damn phone down or to quit being lazy. I wouldn't get to talk to him and guide him on how to handle his anger or sadness with life's obstacles. We wouldn't get to brainstorm on our crazy ideas.  I would no longer get to shed tears of joy for all his life's accomplishments.

My role as big sister changed that day.

Losing Eric was like a HUGE part of me also dying. The part of me that only Eric could bring out. I am not me without Eric having a vital role. Sure, I was his sister, but we were friends and many times through our life, we depended on each other. I have a LIFETIME of memories that involve him, good and bad and some really funny. From childhood playmates, to rivaling siblings, to us figuring out our purpose in life: To Love and Serve the Lord and to lead others to Christ. And to both loving the Catholic church together and sharing so many friends through our time through college together.

I am beyond proud of his legacy...and love that he was so loved despite his "boastful" ways. Because behind some of those boasts, he really was a humble person who loved deeply and wanted for people to know and love God above all else (Even more than a possible Cowboys winning season).

May you be dancing with Michael Jackson before the heavenly King. May your light and legacy shine on