Life is funny. It’s beautiful. It’s crazy. And it’s tragic.

On Monday, August 4th, my little brother, Dillon, sent me an unassuming text message:

“My legs aren’t frickin’ working.”

Dillon sits in a hospital bed and is paralyzed from the waist down. How does an older brother even react to that? We grew up together — riding bikes, wrestling, getting into trouble, doing the things brothers do. The kind of things fathers do with their sons. His sons. Asher and Archer, just 4 and 5 years old.

Dillon was rushed into emergency surgery. The neurosurgeon made a 12-inch incision in his back from T7 to T11, scraping away an infectious abscess that had invaded his spinal cord. But not before it destroyed layers of his meninges — the protective coverings around the cord.

When the doctor slid open the ICU door, he didn’t sugarcoat it:

“You could move your feet in six months and have a eureka moment… or you might never walk again.”

The words swept through the room like a hurricane, leaving behind nothing but silence and shock.

Dillon now faces a long, grueling rehab. He just started a new job he loves, but will be forced to leave it behind while focusing on recovery. As a young father and a sweet, selfless human who cares deeply for his family, this is a devastating blow.

We don’t know what his future looks like, but we do know this: it will take a community to get him there.

Please, be that community. Help a friend, a father, a brother, a son, a husband in his time of need. Help keep the lights on, help his boys have some stability, help alleviate the daily stressors for his wife, Lisa, and help Dillon focus on the only job that matters right now — healing.

The Michigander spirit is one of midwestern hospitality. Right now, Dillon needs that spirit more than ever.