There are certain people you meet in life that you envy. You don’t envy their possessions or lifestyle. Rather, you envy who they are; you envy their personality, gifts, love, and enthusiasm for life. They possess a goodness that is felt in their presence. Their very being emanates joy to those around them. This quality is hard to put into words. It’s an unseen glow, a radiating happiness, and a comforting presence. It’s peace in a chaotic world. It’s joy in a dark valley. It’s simplicity, trust, and goodness in the flesh. This was my brother, Dustin.
Today would have been his 44th birthday. He died on April 18th, 2023 and our family, and perhaps the world, lost a glowing soul that showed us in so many ways how to live simply and rejoice in the little things in life.
Dustin was born on February 21st, 1981. I want to say that he was born with mental handicaps but that feels cheap and degrading. Rather, I want to say that he was born with a special gift; unending, unwavering, and unfettered joy. It flowed from him and touched every person who met him.
As a boy and teenager his bright disposition brought smiles to all. What God withheld in mental faculties, he poured out lavishly in physical size and stature. He was the giant teddy bear at over 6 feet tall and 200+ pounds. He was intimidating in his size but a true gentle giant.
If you were to meet him today, he would not be shy in talking to you about the Ohio State Buckeyes, the weather, or fishing. He loved big-time wrestling, football (especially OSU and the Cleveland Browns), and of course food. If you stopped by my parents house you’d be invited to argue about football or invited to his Mass at the table in the dining room, complete with vestments and hosts provided by my brother, Fr. William Hahn. Each month he would gladly serve you pancakes, bacon, or sausage at the Knights of Columbus breakfast after Mass at the local parish with my dad.
Although his speech was stunted and garbled at times, he would talk to anyone and everyone. He knew no stranger and once you met him, you were a friend for life. He was intimidating but oh so gentle, especially with his infant nieces and nephews. He loved them and they loved him. Dustin loved life. Dustin loved almost everyone (except Michigan players of fans). Dustin was born without that filter that we use to hide ourselves from others and others from ourselves. He wore no masks. What you saw is what you got; a giant loveable man full of joy.
I wish I had that. I wish I could live like that even now. I wish I could know no stranger, wear no mask, and live as though everyone was made to love and be loved (because they are). I envy my brother Dustin and the gift that he was given. I am thankful for the gift that he was and the example he set for all of us on how to live love out loud. I miss him dearly and hope he and dad are catching lots of Largemouth Bass. I am also fairly certain that he’s in danger of being kicked out of Heaven because he won’t stop talking about the Buckeyes being National Champions. Until we meet again, Dustin, Go Bucks!
You can read more about Dustin if you wish, here.
James M. Hahn, Author 