You have been buried for 30 days today. I saw you for the last time that day. The worst and most necessary thing I’ve ever had to do.

You had only just turned 15. My baby brother. Still shorter than me. You looked like such a baby. It came out of nowhere. It was shocking, how could a baby have done what you did? Known what you knew to do? I’ve tried to understand, but there were no warnings. It still doesn’t make sense. I talked to you a few days before on the phone. You complained about a school trip you had been on. I laughed with you about how hot and miserable it sounded. You said you were still glad you went, but that you never wanted to do it again. You were kind to others. You were kind to animals. You were a know-it-all. You told me I made Kraft Mac and cheese wrong. And that I didn’t unload the dishwasher in the proper order. I stand by my Mac and cheese method, but grant you may have a point about the dishwasher.

For two days in a row I have not cried. Today I began to feel sick to my stomach. I needed to feel the pain of your absence — it had been too long. I cannot outrun or avoid the grief from losing you. If ignored, the pain will fester. So I will not ignore you again.

I love you forever,
Your big sister