Ryan Michael Grady

Dear Ryan Michael,

 

            As I sit here with all the memories of you running through my mind, I am comforted in knowing that God had a larger plan for you. What I would like for you to know is how much I appreciated the last nine months I had with you, while watching you grow from a boy into a man. I watched as the miracle that you and Jennifer gave us on December sixth of last year transformed you, and I take solace in knowing that through him you will always live on. Please know that as we go through this world without you, you will always be alive in our hearts and minds.

 

We love you, Buddy,

Dear Ryan,

 

            I do not know where to begin. Never in a million years did I imagine that I would have to say good-bye to you. I am looking through our family pictures now and remembering all the good times that I was fortunate enough to share with you. You are such a kind, remarkable spirit. 

I remember, most vividly, the Halloweens of our youth. Mom, Dad, you, Breanne, and I would always go shopping for pumpkins together. While Breanne and I concerned ourselves with the aesthetic aspect of our potential take-home pumpkins, scrutinizing over the circumference, color, and size, you, without hesitation, picked the ugliest one in the patch. When we asked you why on God’s green earth you would do so such a thing, you responded, “Just because a pumpkin is ugly doesn’t mean that it doesn’t need to be loved just as much as the other pumpkins. Besides, I can make it cool.” And you did. By the time you finished carving your unsightly gourd, it was the most well-crafted, coolest pumpkin to ever see a front porch. I remember being so jealous of your ability to find and cultivate the beauty in things that most would find commonplace. I promised myself that the next Halloween, I would follow suit and turn an ugly pumpkin into something magnificent and special, but, of course, I didn’t. I didn’t even try. Somehow, even as a child, I knew that the ability to do such a thing was innate and could not be learned. But you were endowed with that ability; you were pre-programmed to do such things. It was your nature to help the underdog, even when it was a personified pumpkin, and I love you for that.

 

Thank you for letting me tag along with you and Aaron Santner when I was an annoying brat, for teaching me how to fish, and, most of all, for being my big brother and protecting me when I was scared.

                                                             

I love you Ryan Michael,

 Noni