Dane. Broho. Hermano. Big brother.
Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you text? I would have been there in a matter of hours if you needed me. I’m so sorry I didn’t organize a family Christmas this year. I was overwhelmed with the obligations of the holiday. I felt tired and pulled in so many directions. I’m so mad that I didn’t reach out to you.
I just want to hug you one more time. Tell you one more time that you are the best and I love you.
I can’t believe I don’t have a big brother anymore. How is this possible? How has everything changed in one moment?
I’m sick thinking about how you died alone. God, I hope you didn’t suffer. God, please, I hope you didn’t feel pain.
I’m not just sad. I’m mad, too. I know you and your wife were having problems. I know you were separated. I wish you had told me. I wish you had reached out – come to visit. But divorce, while it sucks, can be worked through. You could have gone on to have a beautiful life. And what about your son? Our dad left a gaping hole…especially for you. His lack of presence caused us so much heartache. And now you’re gone too? And now he is another son without a father? How could you do that to him? How could you think that was best for him? He needs you. We all do. What the f*** Dane? Why?
Even in my anger I still love you. Even though I want to punch you for doing this, more than anything I want to hug you. I want to talk to you about what’s going on. About what’s hurting you. I want to know what you’re afraid of and why you feel alone.
I couldn’t have fixed it, but I could have been there. It would have been overwhelming, but I would have helped you through. I’m a f**** therapist for God’s sake. I could have helped you get into therapy. I could have helped you get on medication. I COULD HAVE F***** HELPED YOU. Why didn’t you trust me enough to ask for help?
It makes me sick thinking that your body is in a morgue right now. I don’t like that you’re alone in there. I don’t even know what morgue you’re in. I have no way to reach you. To call you, to text you. It’s weird. I hate it.
I miss you. I can’t believe I have to bury my brother. 30 year olds shouldn’t be planning funerals.
I blame your f***** job. I told you to get out of there. You were in a war zone everyday. You were burnt out. You were desensitized to violence and death. I get you wanted to be a good person- to help people- but couldn’t you have been a police officer somewhere else? Remember when we were talking about you moving near me? Becoming a cop in a smaller town….less crime….less murders….why didn’t you prioritize yourself? Why did you stay in that job, sacrificing yourself and your family? For what?
The hardest part in all of this is having to remind myself you’re gone. I drift off to sleep, or get lost in a tv show….and I forget for just a minute that the whole f**** world is upside down. Then I have to remind myself you’re dead. God I can’t believe you are dead, Dane.
I miss you. I wish I could have told you how much you meant to me. I wish I could hug you one more time.
I’m sorry I didn’t help. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.
Your little sister,
Kelsey