One Year Later — October 1, 2026
October 1 marks one year since we said goodbye to my brother, Matthew.
It is hard to believe an entire year has passed. In some ways, it feels like yesterday, and in others, it feels like a lifetime since I last saw his smile, heard his laugh, or had the chance to sit and talk with him.
Matthew was my sweet, kind, fun-loving brother. He had one of the best smiles you could ever see—the kind that could light up a room. He loved nature, animals, and the simple things in life.
Matt was also quiet. Not shy, exactly—just thoughtful. He listened; he watched; and he took things in. Our dad, PD, was the same way, and now I see so much of that in Matt’s son, Casey. They are the kind of people who may not always be the loudest in the room, but when they do speak, you listen.
Casey turned 21 just one month after losing his dad, and I think about him often. I see pieces of Matt in him, and pieces of Dad too. There is something comforting about that—knowing the people we love continue to show up in the generations that follow them.
Grief is something I am still learning to live with. Some days it feels quiet and sits somewhere in the background, and other days it shows up without warning. A song, a memory, a picture, or something I wish I could tell him can bring it all rushing back. I don’t think grief ever really leaves us; I think we just learn how to carry it differently.
Over this past year, I have tried to hold especially tight to the memories that make me smile. Matthew loved animals, and our family has had a lot of them over the years. So now we joke that Matt and Dad are together somewhere, running a farm full of every dog and cat our family has loved and lost over the decades.
It makes me smile to picture it.
Dad and Matt, probably not saying much, surrounded by a ridiculous number of animals, perfectly content.
And if there’s a TV somewhere up there, I’m sure Matt has found the Redskins game. Although, given how this season is starting, I hope he hasn’t been following too closely.
I hope Matthew is at peace. I hope he is surrounded by nature, by Dad, by every four-legged friend that got there before him, and by all the things that made him happy here.
Losing him has reminded me just how precious our time together really is. Tell the people you love that you love them. Be kind. Give grace when you can. Make the phone call. Share the meal. Give the hug. Take the picture. Make the memory.
We never know how much those ordinary moments may someday mean.
Matthew, one year later, you are still very much a part of our lives. We talk about you and we remember you; we laugh about the good times. We see pieces of you in Casey. And we miss you more than words can say.
I hope somehow you know how deeply you were loved then, and how very much you are still loved today.
Until we see each other again, I hope you are surrounded by peace, nature, Dad, and all those four-legged friends waiting for you.
We love you and miss you every single day, Matthew.
— Sandy