I fucking miss you today. Right now. Like I had forgotten and now I can’t bare to forget. A song you’d dig came on and I can’t stop crying, and my tears don’t tell the story my heart is so desperate to share. But I’ll try.
I want to talk to you. I want to share how amazing things are for me right now, and how genuinely happy I am. I want to tell you all about Jeremy and how refreshing it is to have met a man who shows up. I know you’d love him and be SO excited for me, and supportive. I want to tell you how excited I am, too, and how much ass I am kicking at work. I want to geek out about how I tacked on 45 pounds to my rack pull today like it was nothing, and how I’m leaning out again because I’m running and loving every second of it. I want to make fun of you for NEVER running and try to get your ass outside.
I want to jam out with you like the white moveless fools that we are. I want to drive in my SRT again and fear my speakers are going to blow out, and also fearing you may kill us. I want to go to Sickick with you, instead of on your behalf. I want to tell you about mom and dad, and how much it breaks my heart that I can’t make theirs whole. I want to tell you that Amanda is a goddess, by definition, and that your friends are so kind. I don’t want to tell you that I see you everywhere because I want to actually fucking see you, but I know you’d be so happy for me right now.
I want to see you write “Happy Birthday sis” on Tuesday. I want to remind you for the 100th fucking time that no, I will not eat the cupcake today, still. I want to eat dad’s fried chicken and just chill. I want to know that when I go up there on Sunday, that you’re coming – late. I want to know that you’ll take smoke breaks and I’ll judge you for how your eyes look and that I get to at least spend some time with you in the same room. More time is all I want.
I want to hear you respond. I want to hear the depth of your voice, the tenderness of your laugh, and the cynicism of your remarks. I want to argue with you delicately, knowing that you always win because you’re more stubborn than I and I feel like I have to protect you and spare you some truths. I want to hug you, and feel you hug me back. I want to know that you’re here, and available, so that as we get older, I don’t have to do this alone. I really don’t want to keep doing this alone.
I want to be creating a foundation with you to help people like you get better, not in your honor. I want to have my brother in my life – alive.
I just really wish that you hung on a little longer. I just really wish that you had chosen to call me first – for real. Not text in a way that I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and I guess just couldn’t have known. I wish you knew what I know, after over 18 years, and that it will absolutely get better if you let it get fucking better. I wish you weren’t so stubborn and that you didn’t think you were different and that you were just here.
I miss you, baby bro. I’m jamming out by myself for you, but I keep seeing cardinals, so I think I know you’re jamming with me, too.
I love you.