Tomorrow would have been your birthday...

(Long rambling post for what would have been my brother's birthday...we miss you Brandon.  I thought about trimming down this entry...but this post is really for me above all else, so I kept it just as it is.  It's about life, love and letting go....)

It's always ironic to me how sometimes in life it's the smallest moments that can change us the most.  A small dot on the vast canvas of life, seemingly so insignificant can be so monumental in hindsight.  Sometimes the moments brush by us gently like the breeze on a summer's night so faint that we barely feel that graceful blanket of air on our cheeks.  Other times moments are so powerful they knock us off of our feet and we struggle to get up.  I feel really blessed to have the most amazing friends in this world, (I promise they are awesome)

I find it interesting how the most deep and wordy conversations can be wonderful, but that sometimes just a few words can be so unforgettable.  We may be told by a thousand people how beautiful we are, but yet we remember what that bully on the playground said to us in 2nd grade.  We may be standing in front of the mirror in our glasses and suddenly this fragile innocent child is looking back at us. The one whose stomach hurts because a boy told her that no one would ever marry a dork in glasses.  We remember something that stung, something that made our stomach turn, or something that for a fleeting moment made our heart smile. 

It's hard to let go.  Really. Hard. I have struggled my entire life with letting go.  I even bawled hysterically at the airport when we said goodbye to the exchange student that had been staying with us.  I cried when I watched La Bamba (still do)...tears dripping down my face like broken faucets.  Anyhow, I thought I would spend forever trying to let my brother go...and in a way, I always will. BUT...one person has helped me actually more than anyone else could.  This girl.  You have heard me talk about Holly before.  Look at her blog, she's insanely funny.  You know she is also real and honest and blunt and caring.  She tells it like it is even if it stings.  She has said so many things to me that have affected me (without even knowing)...especially when it comes to letting go.  I have realized yesterday that I feel free, that I am breathing easier and not wrecked with grief constantly. I have learned to let go.

So here it is...

Dear Brandon,
I'm letting you go.  It's hard, but I'm doing it.  Tomorrow would have been your birthday.  Every year on this day it will be hard, but hopefully with every page that turns on the calendar it will get easier to say goodbye.  I will always wonder who you would have become, and will feel pained that I am robbed of the moments we all could have shared.  I am sorry that I couldn't save you.  I wish that the pain it took to stay would have been less than the pain it took to leave.  I can't help but wonder why one sibling is so in love with life to an extreme and living each moment with every ounce of my being. Having had a brother who just wanted out so badly...I wish there had been some kind of compromise.  Somedays it still hurts so badly that my entire body hurts and I just wish so badly that my little brother was still alive, but most days I just shove those feelings deep inside.  I get distracted and I move on, I let go, I live.


Overall, when I think about you now I laugh A LOT more than I cry.  


However, John and I stayed at a hotel the other week and that was really hard. It was the first time I stayed in a hotel since your death.  I didn't think it would be hard for me, but it was.  I walked into the bathroom and immediately burst into tears.  I felt sick and thought that I was going to throw up.  All those emotions came back and I wanted to make those thoughts go away, but they kept coming back.  I literally had to pee with the lights off...augh!  Also, I have to drive past the hotel where you killed yourself frequently and even though I don't breakdown anymore, it's still hard.  I look away hoping that will make it better, but I see the hospital across the street and it makes me wish it hadn't worked and that you were still alive...if things had been different.  I picture you being rushed there and them fixing you and saving your life...and then I remember that you didn't want anyone to save your life you want to die.  I have finally accepted this. I won't ever be able to understand it, but I accept it.  When I get upset and wish you were here, I feel guilty now because I know I need to think about your feelings.
 
Anyhow, this letter is just a rambling mess.  I miss you, we miss you...you are missed.  I hope you are happy in the clouds.  I think about you a lot and hopefully you know that.  I try to think about the memories we had instead of what happened.  I picture this smiling boy climbing the old tree in our backyard on a crisp fall night.  The branches supporting you as you climbed your way up, so proud of how high up you could reach.  I see us hiking up to our rock on the side of the mountain and looking down at the city where everyone looked like ants.  We would make up stories about the people and cars below...looking at the world from up above.  I wonder if you look at us, if you can see is and if we look like ants. Tomorrow would have been your birthday and I'll be taking my son up to our rock for the first time.  We miss you...


Love,
Your sisssors