Around this point three years ago, there were talks about you leaving the hospital. I was anxious. Valentine’s Day rolled around and I remember your mom later telling me how all these girls went to see you and shower you with gifts and rapidly repeat to you “I love you’s.” I remember how I didn’t visit on Valentine’s Day. It was a hard day, trying to face the fact that had it been another way we’d probably be spending that day together. But, that was weird for me to accept. I just kept focusing on the larger goal: your benefit concert, your upcoming release date and you being back home. I am still weary over the day. Yet this time of the year always reminds me of the best thing about you. February has always been your month of strength. You’ve overcome so much in the course of your life within February’s that being released from the hospital you were admitted to after 2 and a half months in a coma- was just a part of your Valentine month strength. Going up on stage a few days later at your benefit concert and thanking everyone for their support- that was powerful. Your mom and I joked that when you grabbed the microphone from me you would make a joke or say something incoherent. She actually had coached me before going onstage to prevent you from taking the mic. However, what you did was outstanding. How could we ever doubt you? Fast forward next February and we celebrated your first year out and called it “Andy’s 1 year ‘outside!'” We hosted a picnic and enjoyed being literally outside. By your second year I was gone. Now for your third year I need you to know that every February you’re not just in my mind. But you are fueling me with strength. You give me the strength and courage I seek for daily. You remind me what it is to fall to the ground and force yourself back up. Your strength doesn’t go by in vain, your strength is my example. Every February, I can’t help but think what could have been. But then I realize all that you have given me, and how could I ever ask for more?