Wednesday, May 9, 2012


I've managed to repress it for this long but tonight for a moment at least I felt a festering hatred for the man who took my brothers life..What a miserable feeling, being eaten away by such an evil emotion..Now all I find myself feeling is an achingly emptiness. I'm consumed with the fear of more loss, with the fear of an ending of not only my life but the loss of those close to me. Leaving my home is a constant battle between wanting to escape this empty place and the risk of my life or my daughters. I fear everything. My home is filled with such thick sadness, a place where only ghosts live on. Escape is short lived and there are bittersweet memories clinging to every corner, every fiber of what is left of my deteriorating family. We're trying out best but the truth is we can barely find each others gaze, barely stand the emptiness of a nest once filled. I jump at shadows. Turn on every light as I walk through my once comforting home..The air is stale and my heart races in the middle of the night in fear of a nameless terror. I hate walking past his bedroom and on the rare occasion I pause in the hall, I force myself to open the door that had once opened to reveal him lounging in bed. His music doesn't play anymore. There is no need to knock, he won't answer; he won't call for me to enter. Still, I always look to his bed first. Always hope he'll be there; bare chested, arm cast lazily over his eyes in rest. Its like being burned to the core and doused with ice water all at once, realizing he's not home safe but slumbering eternally a mile away. So close yet so far away. His constant pain has ended but mine is only beginning. I can never again declare favorites. The knowledge that my favorites end up being lowered into the ground will forever haunt me. Losing Jordin almost killed me. James saved my life when I was slipping away, trailing after Jordin just as I had my whole life. He sat up with me during those long nights for an entire year as I battled insomnia. He never complained when insomnia was replaced with tears but instead would lay next to me until I succumbed to sleep. He soothed the nightmares and held my hand in the darkness. More often than not words were not needed but his presence saved me. Even after the worse of my grief was through James stayed vigilant. I didn't need him glued to my side but the bond we forged stayed on. We fought, moved out and came back home. Still we were as close as two siblings could be, despite everything. Losing family is hard. Losing a sibling is harder. Losing a brother is like losing a piece of myself. My brothers raised me. They shaped me and taught me so many important life lessons. In the stages of my life where I was more tom-boy than girl, they were my lifelines. Losing James is like death with eyes wide open. The constant chatter in the background has died; replaced with the silence of a tomb. Words are spoken sometimes in the attempt to prove you haven't yet gone mad. The words come but feel rushed, ripped from your lips like the ravings of the insane. No one notices so you must be fine, the insanity only the delusions of your own mind. Shut your mouth and sit in silence. Open your mouth to speak and feel the strength for even the simplest sentence drain from your body. Open your mouth and verbal diarrhea bubbles up from your vocal chords. Nothing important but it cuts through the silence and brief satisfaction, relief is felt. The loss is so tangible the stink of it catches me off guard. I feel torn right down the center. He's coming home. He's never coming home again. I scroll through my phone and press that button that used to put me through to him. I stare at his name and know I'll never hear his voice on the other end. I haven't gone to his grave. I'm afraid. Afraid of the sucker-punch that'll be waiting. The finality. They'd find me trying to claw my way through the earth and haul me away with dirt still caked beneath my fingernails. Another irrational fear because I don't know who 'they' are. I'm paranoid. I wait every night for a stranger to come into my house and start shooting. My insomnia is back. I toss and turn. As I wait for sleep to come I watch James' death replay in my mind. It feels incredibly real and for an instant I feel hope, hope that somehow I'm transported back and that I can actually change the outcome. Hope that he'll be safe in his bedroom when I wake up. People talk about life after death but mostly I think they are talking about life for those who have died. What about the life after death for those who have suffered the loss? What do we do now? One of our beloved is gone. My best friend is gone..


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