On this day – January 20 – in 1988, Lauren Nicole Geeslin was born in Dayton, Ohio. She was the firstborn in her family and became a joy to all. Gentle and kind, Lauren loved caring for others from the beginning, and eventually, she became a big sister to one brother, Bill, and two sisters, Sara and Rachel.

As the oldest, Lauren loved being in charge and was naturally mothering in nature. She wanted to become a teacher when she grew up, and one of her favorite games to play with her siblings and cousins was “school.” She relished in being able to tell her “students” what to do and how to do it, although at times they accused her of being bossy.

Lauren was also very compassionate toward others. Wherever she went, she sought out those who were excluded or forgotten and extended kindness toward them, especially at school. She loved Jesus, and she made it her mission in life to shine her light, and his love, for those around her to see.

This is how I remember my sweet cousin, Lauren Nicole.

On August 24, 2002, I remember seeing my mom, Eloise, frantically hurry out of the house crying. Something bad had happened to Lauren, and my mom needed to go to the hospital to see her. That’s all I knew at that time.

Evening came and went, but my mom hadn’t returned. I was worried. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I knew it couldn’t be good. I remember crying myself to sleep that night. The only thing in the world I wanted at that moment was my mother to wrap me in an embrace and tell me everything was going to be all right.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Lauren had been in a dune buggy accident and had hit her head on the pavement. She was rushed to Joint Township Hospital in St. Marys and then transported via Care Flight helicopter to Miami Valley Hospital. On Aug. 26, two days after the accident, her spirit left this earth.

Lauren had touched so many lives in her short 14 ½ years of life. At 12 years old, I remember her funeral was the saddest one I had ever been to. Her closest friends, including her cousin Leslie, who was more like a sister, were in attendance, some of whom honored Lauren by speaking at the funeral. There wasn’t a dry eye in the whole church.

Lauren’s death was a horrible tragedy and loss of young life, the kind nobody should have to experience. It was hard knowing how to carry on for all of us, each in our own way. Parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends – all had to figure out their own way to process a pain so rare and so intense that still remains to this day. This was especially hard for my dear cousins, Bill, Sara and Rachel. Lauren had watched over them all as their older sister, and now, she was just gone in the blink of an eye.

As Sara has told me, nothing can ever prepare you for what it’s like to lose a sibling. “It’s a ‘club’ that you hope nobody else ever has to be in,” she says. One part that makes it especially difficult is that there are very few people who understand loss from the perspective of a brother or sister, particularly at such a young age.

None of us were ever the same after Lauren left us, and we never will be … but that’s OK and honestly, normal after walking through such a loss.

If you’ve been through a similar loss, my heart goes out to you, and I hope you know that your pain and grief is not lost on God. He will not waste a single drop of it; instead, he will paint beauty from the ashes of tragedy and lift you up on wings like eagles in the process.

I know God did this with Lauren. Sara and I were talking recently, and we reminisced on the impact on the community that happened afterward. There were countless stories of times that Lauren showed kindness to others from all walks of life. She inspired many of her friends to turn to Jesus in their grief. Her legacy lives on in her mom, Lisa; dad, Jim; brother Bill and his wife, Katy; sisters Sara and her husband Trevor Sterling, and Rachel; and in her nieces and nephews, Mason, Lauren (her namesake), Redmond and Reagan. Sara and Rachel tell their kids stories about their Aunt Lauren often, and it’s important to their families that Lauren lives on in their hearts.

I repressed my feelings about Lauren’s loss for many years, and it was only recently that I let myself feel validated in my grief. For some reason, I felt that I wasn’t “qualified” to grieve like everyone else. Nobody in particular made me feel that way. I just felt like I wasn’t as close to Lauren as some others were, although I always looked up to her. My favorite memory of her was when we had a sleepover at my house, and she taught me how to braid hair. She let me practice on her beautiful golden locks, a feature she was very proud of personally.

Every time I hear the song “I Can Only Imagine,” Lauren is the first person I think of. I know I will see her again in Heaven, without a doubt. She has been walking with Jesus for more than 22 years now. Happy 36th birthday today in Heaven, Lauren Nicole – you are always so loved and missed.