For those of you who haven’t heard yet, my little brother Sean died tragically last Wednesday. He was just 24 years old. The circumstances aren’t exactly clear, but I don’t want to focus on the way he died. I want to remember the way he lived.
Sean was brilliant, curious, adventurous, and hilarious. Even though I was the older brother by seven years, I could always learn new things from him. Being nearly a decade apart, we didn’t have a lot of common ground when we were kids; but we always had the bond of family. We grew up in Portland, in a shabby house with not a lot of money. Things got better, but we always remembered the tough times & the good times alike, and how all of it made us who we were. It was relying on each other that kept us going. Now that we were both on the common ground of adulthood, we were relating on a new level with new experiences. I was looking forward to many more years of it. We should have been old men, complaining about robot maids & these damn kids with their rocket boots.
Sean had moved to Texas nearly two years ago with his fiance so they could be closer to her family. Though we were several states apart, we were still close. On the few occasions a year which we’d see each other, it was as if we hadn’t been apart for a day. I could always count on Sean, wether it was to lend a helping hand, give some advice, or just to make me laugh.
I want to thank everyone who’s reached out to me & my family over the last week. The donations, assistance, and kind words have meant more than I can say. For the short time that Sean was here, he left a lasting impact on a lot of people. I’ve felt kind of empty these last few days, and I don’t know if that’s a feeling that’ll ever go away. Sean was always there to encourage me. He had more faith in me than I ever had in myself. I know my brother wouldn’t want me to sit around feeling sad for too long. There’s life to be lived, and I owe it to him to make it the best life possible.
I love you, brother. And I will miss you everyday for the rest of my life.
In the wonderful escape from reality onto the colorful world of comics, death is nothing major. Someone dies only to be gone for a few months or years with the expectation that eventually someone will come along and bring them right back to the norm. Time loops, ray guns, magic spells – there’s always that wonder solution when the problem calls for it.
But in the far too horrible plane of reality, death is an absolute. A horrible, tragic thing that can take a loved one far before their allotted time with no explanation or reason to it. It’s not the logical step in an ongoing story. It’s not the climax of an act that gets us turning the page. It’s far too real – and it makes those of us that like to get lost in the imaginary worlds of comics and video games see that there is a harsh reality that causes us to need these escapes.
We here at Comicdom Wrecks! are mourning the tragic death of Casey’s little brother, Sean. He was talented beyond belief, had a heart of gold, and always had a smile on his face. The kid (always a kid, even into his 20’s) was amazing – and in the 19 years I knew him, I watched him grow from an adorable kid with a big head to a strapping young man who was simply awesome. Every time I saw him, we greeted each other with a big hug as we continued the long running joke of declaring our love for one another.
As Casey and I plowed through our teenage years side by side, Sean was always there to get smacked around when we were trying out a new wrestling move, which of course stopped when he hit his growth spurt and put some muscle on and could easily outmaneuver the two lazy comic nerds. But he laughed about it and always made us feel like we were still the big brothers over him and reminded us of the time we decided it would be a good idea to double powerbomb him onto a broken bed.
There simply aren’t words to describe this. I want to scream to someone to make sense of it all. I want to go run out to find the person with the magic spell that can make this better. But we have to deal with what has happened and move on as best we can. And we support Casey and his family in their time of anguish.
Goodbye, Sean. I long for the day I get to see you again.
from Superman Unchained #6 by Scott Snyder and Jim Lee
I imagine this being said in that soft, pleasant tone that people often talk to animals in. Especially if they’re insulting them. You know the voice. Hell, you may have already done a few times today. I know I have, though usually it’s directed at the pug we have. I can’t help it, he’s just so….pugly.