From the young, innocent ages of five to nine, my life was anything but normal. Every day when I woke up, instead of seeing a sibling jumping for joy while eating their fresh, hot pancakes, I saw my brother with tubes running throughout his little, frail body. Trach care, nebulizer treatments, physical therapy and administering TPN through his central line were all part of my mom’s daily schedule as she stayed home to care for my brother. As I matured, I would often ask the question, “Why did this have to happen to us?” I would see other friends, family, and members of my respective community with a traditional, healthy family. I also started noticing the confused and disgusted looks from others, and each one would be a dagger straight to my heart, and even more so, my parents. My brother was sick. In the first week of his premature life, his stomach was perforated while inserting an NG tube. This ultimately caused all of his major organs to sustain severe, irreversible damage. The everyday things we take for granted such as walking, talking, and eating were all stripped away from him just like that. “Why did this happen?" For the next three and a half years, many days were filled with joy, fear, excitement, and sadness. Doctor visits were so routine for us that I knew all of them by name. Things that a nine year old should not have to see and experience became a regular part of my life. The week of July 4th, 2016, there were no more available interventions. Soon after, on July 15, Ethan’s hard-fought battle of nearly four years came to an end. My perception of the world immediately changed. After all of the extreme hardships, pain, and tears, the first year of Ethan’s absence became overwhelmingly negative. Questioning God, “Why him?” and “Why did this have to happen to us?” was frequent. That year was the hardest on our family. Any mention of my brother would create a pool of tears in my family’s eyes. Coming home from school and seeing my mom emotionally broken, but struggling to stay strong for me, crushed me. Crying on each other's shoulders became a weekly occurrence that allowed us to vent our sadness. Eight years later, I finally had the answer to that heartbreaking question of “Why did this have to happen to us?” Over those eight seemingly short years, my parents recited countless times that sometimes bad things happen to good people. However, I disagree. After all of the doctor visits, blood transfusions, tears shed, and hard days when we had no idea what the future held, I realized that God puts his strongest soldiers through the hardest trials. Transferring schools and proving people wrong academically and athletically became things that I did not only do for myself and my almighty God, but for my brother who never got the chance to do all of the miniscule things we enjoy and take for granted. My brother’s passing taught me that there are no restarts in life. Through my experience, I have realized that you can only control what’s within your reach, and that God always has a plan that we need to trust and believe in. Psalm 46:10 states, “Be still, and know that I am God.” This verse helped me through some of the hardest years of my life, and getting to know God is what truly saved me. Knowing that God always has my back, displayed how I can turn any situation he throws at me into a positive, including this one.