15 September 2012 - by ~ 0 Comments

By The Numbers

Candle lit. Prayer said. Respects paid.

Today marks thirty-eight years since Duchenne muscular dystrophy took my brother, Joseph, away. No matter how far removed I am from that day, the loss still looms and inflicts a harsh emotional jab. At fifteen, he didn’t even have a chance to taste life, and I never had the chance to experience my adult years with him by my side – unfair for sure. But although his ceased operation long ago, my embattled heart continues to dance in rhythm for the both of us – for my existence, and his memory.

Joseph left this world 38 years ago at age 15. I was 8 years old when he passed on September 12th. He would have turned 53 back in April, and I hit 46 in August. By typing all of these numbers just now, I am reminded of how life is an endless series of numbers. Births, deaths, anniversaries, events, tragedies, and the like – they are all tied to particular numbers. And most of us can rattle these off right on the spot, as they have been etched into our minds forever. We remember these numbers because they are significant to our lives and memories, and we each have our own set for various reasons. Most of mine relate to Joseph, for his life left a walloping impact upon my own. Although some will remain fixed, and some will inevitably change, the numbers 38, 15, 8, 12, 53 and 46 will always motivate me to survive and achieve, something Joseph definitely would have wanted.

Hey, didn’t someone once say that there is strength in numbers? Well, I have enough of them go to play the lottery, so wish me luck!