This is it. Finally. I have known that this day would come. And now that it is here, I think that I should feel a certain way, cry, or something. I just feel sad. I have felt sad for 10 years.
It has been 10 years since my brother, Shannon, died.
So much has happened in that 10 years. So much has happened in my life, in the life of my family, and in the world in general. So much that I wish that I could have shared with Shannon.
I wonder if he would have gotten married, had kids, changed into an average type of 31 year old man. Sometimes, I see someone who reminds me of Shannon. And I wonder what he would look like today if he were still alive. And I wonder who he would be today. Would we share some of the same interests? Would we laugh the same?
When he died, I thought that things would get better with time. They haven't. I have just gotten used to him not being here. And I've gotten used to being sad.
We were almost 10 years apart. And I remember carrying him around on my hip, like he was my own baby - showing him off to my friends, to my neighborhood friends. We played house with him, watched him, and spoiled him. And when Momma, Shannon and I moved to Tahoe, all we had was each other. Just me and Shannon against the evil Auntie.
Sometimes, I try to trick myself into being positive, learning a lesson from his death, celebrating my life and the lives of those I love. Sometimes it works. I believe it and I feel better for awhile. But after awhile, it fades. And the sadness is there, like an old friend. Comforting me, reminding me that I haven't forgotten him.
Actually, I think that I hold onto sadness. To let it go feels as though I would be betraying him. I don't talk about it much. I try to keep it closed up - in the place inside myself where I keep all my secrets. And those times that I do talk about it, I say very little. Or at least very little of what I actually feel.
So here I am 10 years later. So much has changed. Yet nothing has.
It has been 10 years since my brother, Shannon, died.
So much has happened in that 10 years. So much has happened in my life, in the life of my family, and in the world in general. So much that I wish that I could have shared with Shannon.
I wonder if he would have gotten married, had kids, changed into an average type of 31 year old man. Sometimes, I see someone who reminds me of Shannon. And I wonder what he would look like today if he were still alive. And I wonder who he would be today. Would we share some of the same interests? Would we laugh the same?
When he died, I thought that things would get better with time. They haven't. I have just gotten used to him not being here. And I've gotten used to being sad.
We were almost 10 years apart. And I remember carrying him around on my hip, like he was my own baby - showing him off to my friends, to my neighborhood friends. We played house with him, watched him, and spoiled him. And when Momma, Shannon and I moved to Tahoe, all we had was each other. Just me and Shannon against the evil Auntie.
Sometimes, I try to trick myself into being positive, learning a lesson from his death, celebrating my life and the lives of those I love. Sometimes it works. I believe it and I feel better for awhile. But after awhile, it fades. And the sadness is there, like an old friend. Comforting me, reminding me that I haven't forgotten him.
Actually, I think that I hold onto sadness. To let it go feels as though I would be betraying him. I don't talk about it much. I try to keep it closed up - in the place inside myself where I keep all my secrets. And those times that I do talk about it, I say very little. Or at least very little of what I actually feel.
So here I am 10 years later. So much has changed. Yet nothing has.
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