Recently, I heard Michelle Obama speaking about the podcast she is doing with her older brother, Craig. She talked about what a great time she is having working with him, and stated that he has the “insights, the wisdom, and the humor to get me through anything.”  I know just how she feels, and I truly hope she does not have to find out for many, many years just how I feel.

Like Michelle, I had a big brother, Bill Sorensen, who was also my friend and my mentor.  And like Michelle, I had the great good fortune of working with him.

Bill’s death in September from esophageal cancer, which seemed to come out of nowhere and was beyond aggressive, came as a shock to everyone. He was only 72, and had been able to enjoy his well-deserved retirement for only a few years. Moreover, he was so seemingly healthy: bicycling and walking his dog every day.  But I do not want to think about his death, I want to think about his life and to convey how very special it was to be his little sister and to get to work with him.

Bill’s colleagues in the Wichita bar knew him as an outstanding bankruptcy attorney.  The cards, notes, and emails I received after his death told of an attorney who was skilled and knowledgeable, but, more importantly, kind, generous, and ethical. Please know that each and every note meant the world to me.

So many of you in the Wichita Bar knew Bill as an exceptional attorney, as a bike riding pal, or as a friend, but I knew him as a big brother. I am comfortable with asserting that he was the best big brother ever. I was six years younger, but he always included me. When I was in college and Bill was a young attorney, he would take me along on his Colorado ski trips. He taught me to play gin rummy (Morris Laing’s signature card game) while we were cruising through western Kansas – Bill was driving, incidentally — on one of our trips to Colorado. He introduced me to so much great music and many classic films. When I would come to visit in Wichita, he took me to places like Lettuce, where I could feel like a young adult. He introduced me to his friends, and his law partners. I could feel his pride in me at all times, and I have no doubt this made me strive to be the best person I could be.

Like many younger siblings, I always did my very best to follow my big brother: he played the trumpet so I played the trumpet, he made Estes rockets so I made some Estes rockets; he majored in math so I majored in math; he went to law school so I went to law school. He was far and away the biggest influence on my decision to go to law school, which was, I believe, the exact right decision for me. And then when, in 1988, I was completing my federal clerkship with Judge Kelly – even though I pretended to look at other firms – was there ever really any doubt that I would follow Bill to Morris Laing? I don’t think so. And I can unequivocally state that this was the right decision for me.

It is hard to describe how special it was getting to be partners with him at Morris Laing. First of all, I was always so very proud to be his sister. He had such a stellar reputation as a great attorney (for a reason), and also was known for being exceedingly well-organized. When our firm moved from the Garvey building to our current Old Town location, for instance, the firm wisely put Bill in charge of logistics for the move. He later shared his “move notebook” with Laurie Williams when the Chapter 13 Trustee’s office was moving. She said that notebook was “the cat’s meow,” and I, of course was proud.  I was always proud.

Being at the same firm, we naturally shared much in common. We had the same partners and friends. When Dennis Feeney died, we grieved together, and relived all of the truly funny Dennis moments. We grieved together through losing Don Schrag and Tom Docking.  And while it did not lessen the tragedy of losing these wonderful friends and partners, it helped ease the pain.

When someone at the firm was a complete ass to either one of us, we vented to each other. When something funny was said at a firm meeting, we caught each other’s eyes across the room: always of a like mind, always amused by the same things.

When I needed legal, ethical, or general life advice, I went to Bill, and he always had time for me, even when I know he didn’t.  There were even a few times he came to me for advice, and that made me feel valued, a feeling which is not to be understated.

Perhaps the very coolest part of being at the same firm, was occasionally working together. We even once litigated together.  It was an employment case: we represented KSN in defense of a sexual harassment lawsuit. Bill did great work on that case, even though it was not his area of the law. And it gave rise to one of our funniest shared Dennis Feeney stories.  The case involved some pretty-awful verbal harassment. During trial prep, Dennis (who was also working on the case), suggested we anesthetize the jury to the vulgar words they would be hearing by writing them on poster board and having that sitting in the courtroom during voir dire! In complete like-minded unison, Bill and I vetoed this idea!

I also had the pleasure of writing several bankruptcy briefs for Bill, allowing me to see first-hand his deep understanding of all parts of the bankruptcy code.  I remember once that he had me write an appeal brief in a bankruptcy case in which the main issue concerned the application of res judicata.  While we were talking through that legal issue, I remember being very aware of how cool that was: being legal “nerds” together. How many people get that chance?

I missed Bill something awful after he retired, but I completely understood why he wanted to.  Over the years, he had dealt with so many complete financial messes that clients brought to him.  His problem-solving and organizational skills, along with his legal acumen, helped each and every one of those clients get to the other side, but it all took a toll on Bill.  I was happy for his well-deserved retirement, but selfishly sad to no longer see him every day.

He allowed me and my husband to host a retirement party for him in our backyard (after having declared that he did not want a retirement party). Hearing Bill speak at this event about what Morris Laing had meant to him for his 44-year career was incredibly meaningful. I am glad I have that speech in my memory bank.

After he retired, he would occasionally stop in the office to pick something up, drop something off, or just to visit.  When I would hear his voice in the hall, I would smile. Seeing him never failed to make me happy.  I think that says a lot about the relationship we had.

A little over a year ago, I was lead counsel in a week-long federal court trial. Bill called me every evening and wanted a full recount of the day.  He offered his sincere interest and his support throughout that trial. When the jury returned an unfavorable verdict, I thought he would be disappointed in me. But, of course, he wasn’t.  He offered the wisdom only another lawyer can give: You should be proud of the great work you did on behalf of your client; jury trials are rough business. To console me, he told me of his one solo jury trial he’d handled as a very young attorney.  Although he won, the jury afterward told him that they thought the other lawyer was better!  That was when Bill decided to focus on bankruptcy work, rather than trial work. Isn’t it amazing how a good laugh helps to heal pain?

My life was entwined with Bill’s for our whole lives, and it hurts like hell to have lost him. But it brings to mind a conversation I had with Judge Wesley Brown when he was 102 years old. I asked him if there were any parts of his life he wished he could change. He looked at me for a few minutes and then said, with much sincerity, “If I could, I would go back and do it all over, just the same.” It gave me goose bumps at the time. And now, more than ever, I get it. There is nothing I would change, either.

Like Michelle Obama’s brother, my brother had the insights, wisdom and humor to get me through anything.  My life is immeasurably better because of Bill.