Family death, and the grieving process
What is the grieving process when you can barely feel your emotions as it is? Is this a good time to try and regulate them, because you can't help but be bombarded? What do you do if it's too much?
He's gone now. So unfair, a young heart's beat crushed so early when he had such potential. Such a vast amount of knowledge he held, even for his 18 years. How does one move on?
Memories flood back of houses I haven't remembered in years; his tiny baby fingers curling around mine. Cuddling and watching cartoons back when my parents didn't have a TV. Laughing at how his geckos felt running across our arms. All of us piling into his living room on Christmas Eve, opening the presents the "night before" because that's the night I would be there. Stuffing ourselves with junk food, running around the house like maniacs. One year stands out in particular, when I was able to stay the night. He wanted to sleep next to me because my visits were getting shorter and farther apart.
In the middle of the night he started crying, because he'd eaten too much, and he felt like he was going to barf. We got him a bowl but he missed, which made him feel bad, but we took care of it as best as we could at that age, because that's what you do for your younger siblings. You go to the end of the Earth for them if you have to.
Even when I wasn't able to visit anymore, we were in contact. At least once a month. I was so proud of the man he was becoming; he had so much love for the world, spent every waking moment gathering and spreading as much love and joy as he could. I miss him so much.
Rest in peace, little brother. I know you'll be waiting for me with some amazing stories to tell.
He's gone now. So unfair, a young heart's beat crushed so early when he had such potential. Such a vast amount of knowledge he held, even for his 18 years. How does one move on?
Memories flood back of houses I haven't remembered in years; his tiny baby fingers curling around mine. Cuddling and watching cartoons back when my parents didn't have a TV. Laughing at how his geckos felt running across our arms. All of us piling into his living room on Christmas Eve, opening the presents the "night before" because that's the night I would be there. Stuffing ourselves with junk food, running around the house like maniacs. One year stands out in particular, when I was able to stay the night. He wanted to sleep next to me because my visits were getting shorter and farther apart.
In the middle of the night he started crying, because he'd eaten too much, and he felt like he was going to barf. We got him a bowl but he missed, which made him feel bad, but we took care of it as best as we could at that age, because that's what you do for your younger siblings. You go to the end of the Earth for them if you have to.
Even when I wasn't able to visit anymore, we were in contact. At least once a month. I was so proud of the man he was becoming; he had so much love for the world, spent every waking moment gathering and spreading as much love and joy as he could. I miss him so much.
Rest in peace, little brother. I know you'll be waiting for me with some amazing stories to tell.

