small pieces of joy

pieces of joy in each day

last home game

on November 26, 2017

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This weekend was a busy one. Between three Thanksgivings, a football game, and a bridal shower for my future sister-in-law, I’m surprised I have energy to type tonight!

I talked about milestones in my last post, and yesterday was one of those big ones. My little brother’s (K) last home game in his college marching band. He has been a part of the band for five years, and it seems to have become a part of our family as well. I went to as many games as I could while living away and having babies (pumping at football games is quite an interesting experience!) but my mom and middle brother (Ke) went to almost all the games for five years.

It was probably the best game I’ve been to. Beautiful weather, competitive teams, and we won on the last play. The last play! It doesn’t really get more nerve wracking/exciting than that!

From the walk to the stadium, through the first half, I was thinking about how wonderful it is that K was able to have such an amazing experience with the band. Especially after such a rough start.

Dad passed away in the beginning of the first semester of his freshman year. He was deteriorating fast when we moved my brother in for band camp, and continued to get worse. We knew our time was limited and that we needed to make the most of the time we had.

Dad always wanted to see one of his kids march in a college marching band. (Ke and I both failed him.) So the band director, knowing of our situation, made it possible to get my mom, dad, and Ke to the first game of the season. I wasn’t there due to me living in another state so I don’t know all the details first hand…but through the efforts of many amazing people, Dad saw one of his kids march on a college football field.

During the halftime show yesterday I was in awe of the dedication, commitment, and talent it takes to be a part of such an incredible group. I also was blown away by the force of their sound! It was bittersweet knowing it was the last time I’d be able to say “my brother is in the band!”

Throughout the rest of the game my eyes were drawn to him in the band section, watching him do every chant and cheer with a huge smile. It was very apparent that he had really made a home for himself in that uniform, with those people. I felt like a proud mama watching her kid do what they love to do, thriving.

I couldn’t help but picture my dad decked out in purple sitting right next to the band soaking it all in. It is so hard knowing he didn’t get to fully experience being a college marching band parent. He would have loved every minute. (And bought every piece of merchandise.)

He was with us, though. On every two hour car ride. Every time the fight song was played. In every smile on K’s face. With every post-game Texas Roadhouse margarita.

I know this because every time my mom, Ke, or I went to a game, we represented Dad.

We get to carry him with us everywhere.

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