This post is written from excerpts of an essay I wrote about my brother back when I was in college. It is fitting for me to post this now. He passed away 13 years ago today and it still takes my breath away to think of how much I miss him.

I was not an easy child. Detachment was always a problem. Looking back,  I am surprised that I never drove my mother to drink. I do not remember a specific first day of school. What I do remember are two years of violent temper tantrums. When I was a first grader at Elizabeth Pole Elementary School, my brother, Mike, was in 5th grade. The teachers would pull him out of his classroom to come calm me down when I had one of my fits. It was reassuring to me to have him there.

My teacher was about nine feet tall. She believed in toughening children up right from the start. We were afraid of her ruler and her threat to “shake us up” if we behaved badly. One would think that this fear would subside upon beginning second grade in Ms. O’Brien’s room. After all, she was only 4 feet tall! However, second grade was worse than I could have imagined. My brother was now at a new school. I was on my own! I may have been scared as a child, but I still had guts for a seven year old.  We used to walk to school.  It didn’t take me long to realize that I could just walk back home before I reached the schools front door. I would watch my friends go to their classes. Then, I would turn around and be gone. Oh, to see my mother’s face when I walked back into the door just a few minutes after I had left!

Looking back, the most frightening thing about second grade was being without my brother. By having my brother close by, I was calmed.

I didn’t really overcome my Detachment issues as I aged. When it was time to go away to college, I was excited and a little nervous, as any eighteen years old would be. I chose to go away to the University of Connecticut.  It took me about a month to realize that this being away from home thing was not all it was cracked up to be. Now, twelve years later, I would rely on the comfort of my brother again. Of course the phone bill was tremendous, as cell phone service was quite different in 1994 as it is now and he was going to college in Virginia at the time. As in first grade, I called on him to make my experience easier. I trusted my big brother’should advice.  I called him when I wanted to know what mixed best with vodka. Then, I called him when I wanted to know what to do about my hangover. I also called him when I was homesick and crying and I did not want to worry my mom and dad.

When we are upset, overwhelmed, scared, sad ,etc., we call on those we trust and love to help us through. Mike and I fought alot as kids, but we also loved each other very much and when push came to shove I knew he would always help out his little sister.  Losing him was so difficult in many ways, but I definitely miss what we didn’t get to have together the most. I didn’t get to see him at my wedding. I didn’t get to see him hold my babies. I know he would have been the coolest uncle ever and it really sucks that my kids don’t have him in their lives. Most of all, I miss that positive support I know he would have given me through the tough times. We talk about him all the time, especially the funny stories because there are so many! I also see him reflected in alot of ways in my kids. His quirky personality traits come through here and there and I know he is getting a good laugh over it. I may not have him physically by my side,  but I know he is always with my dad, my kids, and me. And, the odds are, he’s probably farting.

Love you Michael David Fernandes, February 5, 1972- October 10, 2003