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Vivian Rice

To My Adopted Brother

Author | Vivian Rice |


There wasn’t a single time when I was with Michael and we didn’t have a good time. It’s hard to pick and choose good stories with him because every time was a good story, and eventually, it all blurs together; also because my memory is bad. I feel like I’ve known Michael for a lifetime, even though I only met him in sixth grade when he was a tiny fifth grader.


Michael was always my go-to for telling crazy stories at work or things in my life, and sometimes the most random stuff on Instagram, and he did the same, his wild Chick-fil-la stories were the best. He thrived off of little sleep, and I took more naps than what’s probably healthy, and I’d be in bed by 12:30 and around that time I’d hear my phone ping at least 10 times. I knew that Michael was sending me his nightly ritual of Instagram reels, which meant he finally got home from work. I loved scrolling through the 10+ reels he’d send me because he knew the ones I liked.


Back in tenth grade, I planned to ask out a guy to Spring Formal, and naturally, Michael was my great advisor in the whole affair. He kept telling me to do it, and I procrastinated till the last day possible. When I got to class, Michael looked at me and was like “did he say yes???” I told him, yes and Michael goes “oh good because if you hadn’t asked I was going to ask him myself to go with you.”


One of my favorite things about Michael was you could always trust and count on him, whether it was to talk and listen, or to get something done. The first year I was the journalism leader, Michael was always one of the first people I went to ask for something to get done. Nearly always, Michael got it done. I literally have no idea, since he was a whirlwind of activity, but he always found time to do things I asked him to do. He was dependable, in every way that counted.


Every time I’d eat out with him, he always asked if I wanted anything and offered to pay, only half of the time he succeeded, but I knew he was truly genuine and generous, he loved to make his friends happy, even letting me steal half of his DQ fries.


The last time I saw him on earth was at my graduation party, at first he had told me he’d drop by early, then told me he’d be a bit late. I told him it was a drop-in so come by whenever he could. Michael popped in five minutes before my grad party was officially “finished’. I opened his card at his insistence, and we all cracked because his graduation card was actually a sympathy card and he wrote congrats inside because as he said, “Dollar General ran out and that was literally the last card.”


One of my friends told me that even though she’d never met Michael, she felt like she knew him from all the stories she’d heard about him. Michael was a storyteller, and I like to think that he’d be happy to know that someone knew him solely by stories. Stories, after all, were his trademark.


It’s hard to express in words how much someone meant to you, especially for me. What I can say is Michael was one of my best and closest friends and will continue to be, and he meant the world to me. He will always have a special place in my heart, and I’ll keep telling stories for him.


Love you bro,

Vivian


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