My mother’s dying, and I need the guidance of both Kristy and you now more than ever. Five years ago, you would have been there, writing me words of strength, loving your make-shift little sister with everything you have. I wouldn’t feel so alone. I wouldn’t feel so afraid.
You were my father. You were my brother. You were my friend.
There were so many times that I imagined you and Kristy by my side. If you were my dad, you wouldn’t hit me. You would love me. Protect me. I wouldn’t be afraid of you. I could count on you…I can call you dad, right? I can trust you, right, Brother? Both of you…and me. It was thoughts like these that kept me together when everything was falling apart.
But you never let me in. You didn’t really confide in me unless Kristy and you weren’t speaking. Was I ever good enough? She used to say you thought the world of me; did you ever, really? Was I just…a notion you entertained? Did you ever take my aspirations seriously?
I wanted to be just like you. I was so proud of who you were. I wanted the strength that you had.
But you were always gone, and although you came around for Kristy, you never came around for me. This made me bitter. Jealous. Angry. Hurt. You were my Big Brother. I thought you could do anything. I thought you were the greatest. You were a connection in my life that I so desperately needed when I losing touch with myself. You reminded me of who I was. You and Kristy kept me grounded.
You’ve been gone almost four years and I still browse internet classifieds and cache pages for tangible proof that my subconscious hadn’t fabricated your existence to save me from the violence of loneliness…
But today, Kristy said something, Abba. She said, that even if you were here, it wouldn’t feel the same because she wouldn’t know who you are anymore.
And her words resonate in me as clear as every spiritual wisdom you’ve ever penned for my eyes alone.
I’d like to think that there’d be something exciting about rediscovering who you are and learning whom you have become, but it’s because I once knew you that I would feel a stab of acute sadness.