November 15, 2015

There won't be a way out of it. 

You'll have to sit on the toilet at 8:20 on a Sunday night balling your eyes out because there are people watching football in the basement and it will remind you of him. 

It'll remind you that after you watched your first football game with him, nobody else was ever worth watching another game with. 

You will find that you really won't be strong on your own. 

You won't be able to handle it and it will send you spiraling out of control every time you hear the song photograph.

There won't be a way out of it. 

There won't be a way around it. 

And people will swear to you there is and that time will heal it but there isn't and they're wrong, time won't heal it; it matters too much.

Just hold on to the good, when he taught you how to drive manual in his Ranger and you picked him sunflowers because sunflowers were his favorite. 

All those nights he pulled you out of darkness and put a smile on your face the way only a big brother can do. 

How last Christmas you got him a Sharknado poster and he didn't waste a day hanging it up in the middle of his living room and making sure you knew how much he appreciated it. 

All those nights your boyfriend worked late so he'd pause Castle, look over and announce: "Alright you look like you're fading away, let's go get food." And he'd take you to Jambones or the Knuckle or he'd make you tacos and tell you about the time he was younger and browned hamburger for the first time and had to call his mom to ask her where the "browning seasoning" was located at in the grocery store.

But on certain evenings, in between watching the Shawshank Redemption and playing some lame game on his phone I still don't know the name of to this day, he'd grill you a steak, give you a beer and sit you down and tell you to pull your head out of your ass and lighten up and it was exactly what you needed every time.    

 

It's been one month Bubba, and I miss you.