He was the life of any get together we had. He would pick things for all of us cousins to play, and we would just go along with whatever he had planned. For instance, my grandma had a Crayola toy box. He thought we should turn it into a Star Wars Ship. I was Princess Laya and he was always Luke Skywalker. There are so many memories about my cousin that I could turn this blog into a book. He was so imaginative, so loving, yet..he was also extremely protective of his family.
One time, we stayed a summer with Michael and my aunt and uncle in Seminole, TX. We went to a school playground to play and everything was going great until someone called him a son of a bitch. Well, apparently you didn't say things like that to him because that kid probably regrets it to this day. He said, "Nobody calls my mom a bitch!" and then he fought him. Of course he won, but after the fight we all took off running. He did this for all of us. He was not afraid of anything or anyone. He lived his life to the fullest. He is the epitome of life.
He always told me he wanted to be a truck driver when he grew up and he wanted to serve in the military. God blessed him with every dream he could have imagined. Not only did he get to drive a truck and served in the Navy, he married his high school sweetheart and they had 3 amazing boys who look just like him. He had done everything he set out to do.
He was a feisty Irish soul. He loved Notre Dame, Def Leppard, Snoop Dogg, and his family. He loved a good fight. He enjoyed playing basketball with us. He participated in sports in school. He jumped off of a house and broke his arm...I mean to tell you, he was afraid of nothing. He made his parents a nervous wreck, I am sure.
I had just got home from my best friends funeral when I got the call that Michael had been in a wreck and it didn't look good. I dropped the phone. Kevin tried so hard to console me. He was in a coma, on life support, and on dialysis. I just knew if I went and read a letter to him that I had wrote, he would wake up. The day I was on my way to Lubbock, he coded on the table, and although they had a DNR on him, they resuscitated him anyway. I saw this as some sort of sign. I read my letter to him, a tear trickled down his face, but he did not wake up. Nothing anyone said to him could wake him up. I had unrealistic expectations, but I had to try. He was withheld one dialysis treatment two days after I said what I had to say to him, and he passed away on November 11, 2002.
Life has not been the same sense. The world lost a wonderful person, but at the same time, this man did everything he set out to do. I miss him terribly. His parents gave me a claddagh ring to remember him by. Anytime I make a bad decision, it falls off my finger...almost like he is still trying to protect me. I believe that with all of my heart. I still have his amazing parents that have always stayed by my side...and I will never let his memory fade, not only for my own sanity, but for respect for his parents and three sons as well.
I love you Michael Dean. We all miss you with every day that passes....
In loving memory of Michael Dean Dahl: November 28, 1978- November 11, 2002.
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