My brother Matthew was kind of an asshole. Now, I’m aloud to say that. Because I’m his sister. You are not. I would say that to him quite often. “Matt, you are such an ass.” He would do this small laugh, a half smile, and a small shrug. “Yup. I am.” See, he wasn’t really an asshole. He was actually a good guy. But he had this way about him that could make you just want to smack him. Such a cocky guy. SO good with people. He could walk into a room, and anyone there would want him to like them. He seemed so calm and put together all the time. Nothing intimidated him, he could take on the world with that smirk and laid back nature. See, I’m the opposite. I am usually a frantic mess and quite flighty. I always have a guilty look on my face, and people would assume I was up to no good. So, his natural ability to take any situation and make it work for him would make me give him that look of, “are you effing serious” and he would give one back of, “Well, I’m Matt. Jealous much?” Which would result in the, “You’re such an asshole.”
My brother was one of my best friends growing up. Since his death, I’ve done a lot of thinking and reminiscing, like most do after a loss. I remembered this one time we were teenagers at the mall. We were being obnoxious, and we were confronted by a sales lady. Of course, I looked like I was up to no good. She immediately started the lecture and verbal reprimand. Then Matt spoke. He made small joke and like a freaking Jedi mind trick, had the lady laughing and telling us to have a nice day. I wanted to look at him in disbelief, but it happened so often, that I just said, “You’re an ass” to which he replied, “You’re welcome.” Everyone liked Matt. You couldn’t help it. He always had a witty comeback, a funny joke, the perfect movie quote, and could say more with his facial expression than his words. I had the coolest big brother ever.
I now know why losing a sibling is such a horrid thing. It’s because they are one of the few people in the world who really know YOU. Not the you the world sees, but the REAL you. They see you when you’re trying out new styles and look like an idiot. They sit with you listening to Eminem on repeat so you can memorize Real Slim Shady. They are the ones who you don’t care if they see you pick your nose or hear you fart or see you picking at your zits in the mirror. They are the ones you cry with when Mom and Dad are just so unfair, or cover for because they didn’t do their chore. They’re the ones you ask stuff to when you don’t want to look like an idiot to your friends for not knowing. I mean, they may make fun of you for all that stuff, but it doesn’t matter. They would never rat you out for being uncool, because you saw their insecure, nerdy, real selves as well. The sibling bond is like no other. And it doesn’t go away. When you sit by that adult that is so put together, you can still see that kid, that teen, that friend.
It hurts. To know someone to the core of who they are, and them know you, and then they’re just gone. I wish I could go back and just be that kid, or teen again for awhile. I want to argue about who gets the last of the Lucky charms and tell him he cheated at battleship. I want to build a fort outside and pretend we are being invaded. I want to go hang out at the movie theater and get mad at him for hitting on my friends. I want to drive around in his Olds with music on, and ask him what THAT line was, because I couldn’t understand it. I want to yell for him to throw the football to me and then him yell at me for dropping it like I always do. I want to watch Loony Toons on Saturday morning and hear him bust out laughing that incredibly loud Matt laugh, while dad makes french toast and eggs.
My big brother. That super cool guy that was actually a huge nerd. The one that I could make bust out laughing, and was always excited to tell me about this “cool new” thing. We did mission work in Mexico together. We went to Steubenville every summer. We argued over lyrics of songs (that I was always right on because I saw it on “Say What Karaoke” so I knew). We hid CDs like Limp Bizkit from mom so we could tape them (which she found and snapped in half) and then sat up talking about how unfair parents were.
Losing my brother sucks. So much. Even as an adult I wanted him to think I was cool. The last time I saw him was after my dads funeral. We talked about bullshit. It was great. We watched our kids play together at DQ and went to the movies. The last time we talked to eachother was on Facebook. We talked about art. He was telling me how much he loved my comic I was doing. He told me he loved how extroverted I was and that he would never have the balls to draw a comic, let alone post it online. And you know what? I was a 30 year old 7 year old. Super excited that my big brother was impressed by me. That was Matt though. You wanted him to like you. It meant the world when he noticed you. Not because he didn’t notice people, he did. He noticed a lot and had a big heart. But because he had a gift of charisma that made him like a magnet to those around him.
I love you Matthew. Thank you so much for being in my life and for being my best friends through all those tough years. I’m so glad I got to see you again one last time. I will miss you. You are a part of who I’ve become, and I’m so proud I was able to be part of who you became.
thatbethy 
You did it again, Beth! Wow is all I can say. And I wanted him to like me too 🙂
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