Nearly every week, I wake to a text “Hey boo boo how are ya?”
I reply.
In turn, I may or may not receive a reply back. That was Brandon. Thinking of you, worried about you, and too busy living life to remember to text back.
At our yearly trips to Redfish Lake, Gage, Brandon and I always go on our adventures. One time, we scaled rocks in flip flops and swim suits. However, as anyone with short arms can attest, it is difficult to find hand holds when bouldering.
Brandon and Gage scramble up the rocks. I was left feeling like a kitten. I was staring at panthers who scaled a tree. I can’t fucking reach where they reached.
Brandon yells, “Don’t be a pussy! Come onn.” but I’m obviously scared. He climbs back down the rocks and points out where I should put my feet. Brandon then shows me where the difficult handhold would be. I just take his word for it because I can’t even see it. After, he assures me that he’ll catch me if I fall.
This was Brandon. Constantly talking shit, peer-pressuring you, and supporting you the whole time.
I successfully climbed the rock wall with Brandon’s help.
The thing is, I couldn’t ask for a better brother. This was one of many times he would help me throughout my life. He always pushed me and never left me hanging. He set me up to succeed.
I will always be thankful for the time I had with him. I loved blurting out “Yo biiiitch, what’s going on?” and hearing Brandon laugh each time. Or hear him say, “Omigod Christin! Whatta cutieeee.” when he would see me dressed like an actual girl.
I will never forget his infectious personality, nor his incessant love for me.
