2016 was a decade ago…
The internet is FLOODED with “2016 was a decade ago” posts. Many of my friends are sharing fun photos and videos from what I consider the prime era of Snapchat. If I were to dig into my archives, I would find a LOT of great content — most of it cursing the careers of myself and my friends. How could anyone ever become a functioning professional when they were acting like THAT during graduate school?
My 2016 was very cool in some aspects. I enjoyed my second semester at LSU, playing in every ensemble I could squeeze into my schedule. I started friendships that are still strong a decade later, even as so many of them are absolutely thriving all across the country in their respective careers. I played for and worked with some of my trumpet heroes at the inspiring Chosen Vale Seminar up in Connecticut, and a few weeks later built a baroque trumpet from near-scratch in the woods of Indiana.
But for all of its highs, 2016 was the year I reached rock-bottom.
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The Call
My life was forever-shifted on the morning of August 6th. I had just celebrated my 23rd birthday the night before and was gearing up to head back to LSU alone, as my then-wife Laura had moved back to Nebraska earlier that year after a terrible experience teaching at a charter school in Baton Rouge. My mom called me that morning, I assumed to ask what time I’d be home for a celebratory dinner.
…But all I heard on the other end of the phone was uncontrollable sobbing.
“Mom?… Mom, what’s wrong?”
“…It’s Matthew. He’s… He’s…”
My brother was gone.
He died in a late-night car accident in western Nebraska, up late helping to wrangle cattle at a nearby ranch. He was found with his blue heeler, Doc, who was completely unharmed. Amidst all of the chaos of the fatal crash, he had remained by his master’s side throughout the night.
I raced home with tears streaming, grounded only by a phone call I made to my dear friend Creighton as I failed to explain what was really going on. I’ve never hugged my parents so forcefully, praying collectively that this could all be a horrible lie and that Matthew would soon come through the door and wonder why we were all sobbing like maniacs. I still dream of this happening a decade later.
The next few days and weeks were a complete blur. I tried to grieve with my parents, but also attempted to be strong for them and to help with the difficulties of preparing an unexpected funeral. I am so grateful to Laura for helping with a lot of the administrative tasks that arose at that time, and for all of my family, friends, and the community-at-large for their collective love and support.
I believed it was strong to present as “fine, considering” to the public. I threw myself into practice, my graduate courses and teaching lessons and remained a jovial clown with my friends. But as soon as I was home, the mask was removed and I allowed the depression in. Shout out to Little Caesar’s Pizza and Barefoot Moscato for providing enough “nutrition” to keep my body going — and for the “245” on my scale.
My life continued to spiral and compound in complexity. My marriage with Laura ended in the spring of 2017 — beginning the same week as my Masters’ comprehensive examinations and degree recital. I received letters from my birth-parents a month later asking to meet for the first time since birth, adding an entirely new ocean of emotions to navigate. I began my career as a professional musician and teacher, remaining in Baton Rouge purely out of a lack of direction combined with the encouragement and support of Dr. Shaw. I entered into a relationship with a sweet girl named Gabi, thinking it would be nothing more than a nice fling… something “simple” to ground myself.
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Another Call
I had called Matthew a couple of weeks before his passing as I drove up to Indiana. It was so out of the ordinary for us. Matthew was not a big talker, and we didn’t have much in common outside of our shared experiences — and our love of Guitar Hero (long live our basement band “Toast and Jam”). But on this occasion, we spoke for over an hour.
I don’t know what we talked about, but I know that we both laughed a bunch. We apologized for being little shits to each other. We made a plan to surprise my mom later in August. I would stay for a couple of days longer before heading back to Baton Rouge, and he would come a few days early — the first time we’d all be together since he moved out west, I believe.
As we hung up, Matthew told me he loved me. It was the first time in our young adult lives that I had ever heard him say that unprovoked. I will never forget how I smiled for so many miles, feeling like he and I had really made a turn in our relationship and excited for what was to come. Oblivious to how meaningful those three words actually would become.
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In the early weeks of 2026, amidst the seemingly-absolute chaos of the current world at large… my little life is going pretty strong. I enjoy a fruitful career making music. My relationship with my family is stronger than ever. I have an amazing marriage with that little “fling” from 2017. I am surrounded with the love and support of a strong community.
And it is all that much sweeter with an ounce of perspective.
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