Casey Leonard - The Music Will Live On

I met Casey when he was sixteen at a party by the lake in Augusta, Georgia. He's just got his tongue pierced, in spite of what his parents might have wanted. He was full of himself and his dreams of the future. Back then he played the drums. This was before he discovered the magic he could make with electronic music. He didn't talk to me much that day. It must have been strange for him to meet his big sister for the first time. I understood. I felt awkward in my attempts to relate to this cocky teenager who happened to be my baby brother.

What we lacked in communication he made up for that day by befriending his nephew, my son. He took him down by the water and escorted him out to a boat where more of my new family waited. Casey took care of him as Uncle Leo tooled around the water, pulling various bouncing kids on an inner tube.

We watched each other while we ate corn cooked on the grill. I'd catch him eyeing me over the rim of his cup. I'd smile and so would he. He had the biggest, most captivating smile I'd ever seen. I was in love and wanted nothing more than to protect him and keep him safe forever. I imagined what it might have been like to have grown up with him in my home, a baby brother to care for when I was fourteen, a toddler to dress up like my own personal doll. He'd have hated it. I would have loved it.

We met at this late date because of circumstances out of our control - difficult choices that led our father and my mother to give me up for adoption at birth. Back then Casey was only a twinkle in my father's eye.

Last summer, at the age of 27, my brother was in an ATV accident. He suffered severe brain injury from striking a tree head on without a helmet- most people don't survive injuries of this sort. My brother was not average. He didn't believe in counting the odds and predictable outcomes. Anyone who knew him can attest to that. If he was told he couldn't then by God he'd find a way.

And find a way he did. He clung to life with the fierceness of a warrior. In the hospital his IPOD continually played in the background. His hands moving to the beat, as if he were spinning in his favorite club. I'll never forget stroking his hand and telling him I'd understand if he was ready to leave me. He couldn't speak or even open his eyes but he squeezed my hand as hard as he was able. I took that to mean, "No, not yet."

My brother was ready on June 29th. In his time, in his own way he let go and went back to God. I'll miss him and the abundant life I'd imagined for his future. His wife who arrived at the funeral dressed in his clothes will miss him. His two young children will miss their daddy. My family will mourn for quite a while. His mother and my father will be lonely and lost without him to care for. I'm not sure yet how to let him go. I'm still working on that one. All I can say to him now, knowing how hard this past year has been, is, "Casey, I understand."