The world stopped moving.
I cannot breathe.
I drive down the street, like I’m in a trance.
Tears roll down my cheeks.
I talk to him, to my brother, my other half, my best friend, my life partner, my kid, baby little brother, who, once was little, then grew to be 6 inches taller than me in like one summer. I am 6′ feet tall so, yea, he was me little-big brother.
Dave was protective of me.
Now I’m all alone.
Now he is gone.
Where is he?
Can he hear me?
Can he see me?
Is he in heaven?
Is heaven really real?
Is it pretty there…?
………………………………………….I scream his name.
I scream it loud in the car when I drive.
Sobbing, I scream.
It doesn’t matter.
He can’t hear me.
He is gone……………..where is he?
There is a hole in my heart.
This place where Dave has always been.
That place is still his, but…………I need my brother.
I wasn’t finished.
I wasn’t finished making memories with him, laughing with him, arguing with him, annoying him…
He was my favorite person.
He was smart, so smart, so smart that I felt half retarded around him…
He was funny, so funny, people loved him
He was respectful of others, of women, old fashioned kind of manners when it came to women.
I loved that about him.
Dave would do things, like empty his closet of all his expensive clothes on Christmas Eve, and drive downtown and give his nice jeans, shirts, hoodies and shoes to the homeless. He would do this, and not tell anyone. He did it, for no other reason, than a selfless one.
But I knew…
Dave would give, and has given his last $10 bucks to a stranger, or a friend in need…
He was shot by someone trying to rob him of his money.
Dave would have given that person his money, but that person just shot him and ran.
Didn’t even give Dave a change to reach into his pocket.
And now my brother is gone, and I won’t ever get to see him again.
I hurt so bad inside.
Words do this feeling no justice.
That was me and Dave.
One is not right without the other.
I will watch mom and dad grow old, without my brother here to help me.
I will watch my mom cry over her son’s death certificate.
I will watch my dad weep for his son.
I will scream his name everyday, so loud, in my car, or anywhere that I find myself all alone.
I will wear his big t-shirts around my house and talk to him like he’s here, or a phone call away.
I will tell stories of him to people, repeating over and over how great he was, and how I wish they could have met him.
I will bake him cakes on his birthday and make him chicken fingers because that was his favorite.
I will listen to his music, he produced music for local artists here in KC, some tracks had him on it, I play those on repeat because I like to hear his voice.
I don’t want to ever forget his voice.
I will look at our pictures, all the pictures of him, of us, until my tears run dry.
I will light off as many fire works on the fourth of July, for him because that was his favorite holiday, well besides Christmas, so at Christmas
I will write to him, I’ll write to him all the time anyway.. I already have letters, even though I have nowhere to send them, I still write to him
And I’ll cry hard asking what I’m going to do to make this pain go away…
I will never stop crying.
Will I ever stop crying for him?
Will I ever feel alive again?
I love you. I will love you till my dying breath. I will love you after that.
Will I ever see you again
When my time here is finished, will I see you then
I need you
I don’t know what else to say right now….
It hurts so bad
I will always cry for you…
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