What do you want your legacy to be?

Nine days. Nine days separated my date of birth from my older cousin, Brandon’s. For as long as I can remember, it was a point of contention between us.

As kids, it was always “We get to do what I want to do because I’m the older cousin.” He always got to do the best things before me; becoming a teenager, getting a driver’s license, buying alcohol, he was always first.

As adults, it turned into “Haha, you are OLD,” every time he would turn the next age before me.

Brandon was the family jokester. It didn’t matter the topic; he could easily slide in a joke to have the whole room rolling on the floor laughing.

Although his family moved out of Texas when he was young, Brandon was the biggest Texas Longhorns fan any of us had ever met. So much so that I, not knowing anything about the school, the team or even football, for that matter, would proudly proclaim “Hook’em Horns” any chance I got. I always wanted to be a little more like Brandon.

Despite the fact that he had to call at least once a year for the five years after he moved out of his parents’ house to ask, “When do I put the egg in the Ramen noodles,” I idolized my older cousin. It wasn’t until I watched him become a husband and a father to a son, and later a daughter, that I could tell you why.

You know those people who, even when you look at pictures of them, radiate love? That was Brandon. He laughed big, but he loved bigger. He didn’t wait for the “perfect” time to do something to make someone smile, he just did it. In fact, if he could do it at the MOST inappropriate time, that may have been his preference. I looked up to Brandon for that.

When we were teenagers, I went to visit Brandon in Indiana. We were bored and hungry one day and Brandon decided that we would go on a “cousin date” to Olive Garden. I still remember his mom saying, “Make sure you pay for Ashley!” on the way out the door (not that he would have ever let me pay for myself). That was a hard time in my life. I was coming off of my first break up and was still in the phase where I would cry at the drop of a hat. But, not at that lunch date. Not with Brandon around.

I don’t know how long we spent eating soup, salad and breadsticks that day, but I know now that there would never be enough time.

On Sept. 16, 2023, Brandon spent the day celebrating his birthday by taking his children apple picking. That night, he went to a friend’s house to watch his beloved Texas Longhorns beat Wyoming. He did not wake up the next morning.

Nine days later, on Sept. 25, we celebrated his life and my birthday. The next morning, I woke up and, for the first time in my life, I was older than Brandon. Suddenly, I wish I wasn’t.

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Kontnier is the publisher of the Hays Free Press/News-Dispatch. She can be reached at [email protected].