The weight of my regrets is crushing and suffocating me. I am selfish because I know it does not even compare to what you were feeling. I miss you so much.
I am afraid to sleep, because I dream of you. In my dreams, I reach you in time, you are safe and you are coming home. Or you are living the life you should’ve had. I talk to you about silly things, and you give me one of those great big bear hugs. Then I wake up and I feel the excruciating loss all over again.
I wish you knew you could have come home. I should have called you and told you that. I got so caught up in my own crap that I took it for granted you would always be here.
It’s been 504 days. It’s changed me. I spend every waking moment trying to keep my mind off you and that day. I picture what you might have looked like when you were found. Were you crying when you did it or were you just ready. I can’t get Mom’s scream out of my head or her crumpled on the floor. I can’t focus when talking to others. My mind wanders 30 seconds into any conversation I have. My ability to retain anything said or read is now gone.
People seem to forget what I am going through and what I have lost. A part of me died with you that day. Some days it’s a struggle to get out of bed and function. But I am made to feel like I am lazy and a bad mom. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t want to accept it. I am not ready to face it. I want my little brother back.
I hope you are at peace. Our sister thinks you are. I wish I believed in something, so I could think that, too.
I love you, always.