My brother, Cade, died from suicide this year. He was my buddy, he was a punk, and I fucking loved him.

One of my favorite memories with Cade was when he visited me in Oregon, and we hosted a talent show. He didn't know anyone there, they were all older and out of college, and he had relatively just started (and during COVID, too. Fuck he's brave). Anyway, he closed it down, singing deep cut Neil Young songs until his voice started to crack, and we said our goodbyes, smoking cigarettes on the roof, under the stars.

I'll never get that night back, but I find myself looking to the sky, talking to Cade, and offering up this invitation: "Join whatever part of my life feels like heaven to you." So, now, I try to infuse moments into my life that he might want to be a part of. Maybe for his birthday, a normally cold, wet day that can feel lonely if there's no laser tag around--maybe another talent show where we do whatever the fuck makes us feel good in front of people who are just happy to be together—maybe that would feel like heaven.

If you're seeing this invitation, I'd love to see you at the talent show. Preform (anything, really) if you want, work the lighting if that feels safe, or just come and exist. Regardless of if you can or can't make it, please consider donating to LOSS Community Services . They really helped me and my mom when we were in the early days of bereavement. You can either donate here, and I'll send it to LOSS, or you can go to their website--whatever you feel better about. (However, if we all donate here, and I send in one big lump sum, it might feel like more of a show, and we looove a show.)

To the fearless idiots who face the crowd and smile, I'll see you soon!