I’m missing you a lot today. For some reason this morning I was reminded of when you came to see me at the hospital the night of my car accident; you brought the girl you’d been dating with you and that was my first time meeting her. I was having trouble remembering what her name was so I thought I would just text you or call you and ask. Then it dawned on me that I can’t.
I’m confused and bewildered by that. You’ve been dead for 3-1/2 years but yet I still get the urge to text or call you sometimes. For a fraction of a second I’m excited thinking, “I haven’t talked to him in a while, I’m going to call.” It’s ever so brief but long enough to flood me with a mix of confusing emotions. I am absolutely ashamed of myself for thinking for a moment that I COULD call you… does that mean I’m moving on and forgetting?? I can’t tolerate that. I still think about you every single day without fail; so how can I possibly have these moments where I think I can just pick up the phone and talk to you?
I’m also noticing a shift in that I’ve started feeling a bit more anger over your death than I did before. I’m not really mad at you for taking your life as I still maintain that I understand WHY you did that; but more so because you’re just. not. here. In our small family of four, you were my peer, my friend, my “partner in crime;” you know my history as well as I do and can understand why I am the way that I am and I miss sharing things with you. You were supposed to be here help me take care of our parents as they age. You were supposed to be there in MY old age. When things with Mom and Dad were stressful you were the one I could rely on to talk to about it and we were there for each other. I know you’re still there for me but not in a form that I can understand anymore; while I feel your presence I can’t talk to you like I once did… hence these many long-winded letters I write to you.
I’m finding myself getting angrier with life in general at times, too; I’m just so out of sorts missing you that it affects how I deal with everything that comes my way– big or small. I’m still angry that Dad forgot your birthday, Brian. I shouldn’t be– even growing up he had to be reminded of when our birthdays or other special occasions were, so I guess your death shouldn’t have changed that but I still wish it had. I really wish he seemed to remember the details about you (your life, important dates in your life, etc.) like he remembers them about our dogs. But like I said before, he didn’t remember them when we were kids unless Mom reminded him so it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to because I’ve just come to expect it but still wish it were different for you because you are deserving of being remembered and celebrated on those days.
I need you to know that you are important to me, Brian, and that you always were.
Thanks for letting me ramble today, dude.