HI Andy!

Happy 31st! Ten and a half years later, a birthday without you is still pretty hard to handle. I've done my best in life to not think too much about what could have been, it would be a waste of energy, but especially on your birthday, I can't help it. I spent so much of my childhood thinking about what would have been if you weren't in a wheelchair, or what it would be like if we were able to talk or able to see me. These past couple of years, and this year especially, I've just been thinking about what it would be like if you were here. Just here in the perfect way you were made and I got to know. Yes, Dan and I live on the other side of the country, but I know both of us would probably jump on a plane right now just to get the chance to visit you and sit with you with the Packer blanket I made for you draped over you. I'm under that same blanket now, your name still etched in the corner of it so the other people at Central Center wouldn't get too jealous and try to take it. We'd also probably walk around outside, it would probably be pretty cold, but we'd love to go on those big swings that some other of your friends were able to sit in just to feel the breeze and movement. I'm sorry I never got to be on one of those swings with you. Honestly, and this is the craziest part, Andrew, we'd probably play you a rap album that Dan just made for his 30th birthday. It's the most insane thing in the whole world and you'd love it. Would probably make you turn your head over and over again. 

Mom got a tattoo with your name. A TATTOO, ANDREW. But it's perfect and I hope as many people see your name and ask her about you as possible. Your story is hard to hear, but I'm glad more people might get to hear it. It's the best part about any of us. 

Look, I'm very, very thankful you are not suffering and that I got to spend 15 of your birthdays on the same planet as you, but I'm really sad about these 10 that I've had to think about what might have been. Thank you for making me the person that thinks about what might have been exactly as you were rather than the person that spends her life thinking about what might have been if things started differently for you. I'm still so unbelievably proud every day to have you as my brother and I know Dan is, too. For years I've said that I hope you're running around and jumping up there in heaven with Millie, but honestly, I just hope you're happy. If you're still in that chair, arms up next to your face, the way I always knew you, then that's fine, too. Because your life was hard, but perfect and valuable and incredibly important to me, so I hope even if that's true, you're absolutely happy. 

Love you forever, brother.