The Beginning
It’s Friday evening, and I’m sitting on my couch, feeling cozy with my dog Caroline curled up beside me. The house is completely silent, except for the sound of crickets outside and the growling of my empty stomach. Grief has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. Part of me is grateful it does, rather than still hanging over me like a constant, heavy burden. I think about my brother at least a hundred times a day. When you’ve spent 41 years with someone, they become part of your soul—your heart beats because of them, and they never leave your thoughts. I’m fighting the loss of my best friend hour by hour.
But through that pain, I’ve tried to channel my grief into something positive. The RPM Foundation was born from love, grief, kindness, sadness—and most importantly, pride. Pride in the athletic childhood Ryan and I shared. We dominated in so many sports (though, to be fair, he probably had the upper hand with his height!). Not a day went by when we weren’t competing in something. And as we grew into adulthood, we kept that tradition alive, playing basketball, hiking, running, tennis, disc golf, ping pong—anything that demanded a little hand-eye coordination. Sports were a huge part of our bond, and those memories are some of the dearest I hold.
That’s why I started this foundation in Ryan’s honor—to give kids the same opportunities that we had. To thrive, to learn, to compete, and to discover the true meaning of sportsmanship. And here I am, standing alone, without Ryan by my side, trying to build something special in his name. I know he’s proud. I know he’s smiling somewhere. And I’m pretty sure wherever that is he still thinks he can beat me at basketball.
I love you dude - here goes nothing!
Play ball,
Jameson