It had been coming on for awhile. A long while. So when my brother died, I’m not sure why I was left so blindsided. He had a way about him, that was frustratingly irresistible. Everyone just ended up gravitating toward him. Sort of like the outlet at Starbucks. I remember the year I turned eleven. I was in the fifth grade, and he was in the seventh. I’ll always look back on that year with a smirk. Because that was the year that I lost my friend. What happens then, when you lose your person? Because up until the year I turned eleven he was my person. The person I joked with, the person I could say anything to, even if it were stupid or dumb. He was the person, I could have silly freeze tag games with, and laugh at nothing with, and be anything with. So what happens when you lose your person? I think I have a clue. You grow up. You become different people. And then you go your separate ways, because there is nothing else you can do.

I remember the year I started high school. I was in the ninth grade and he was in the eleventh. I’ll always look back on that year with a hollowed feeling. Because that was the year I lost my brother. His smiles, and his presence and his company, never once was for me. There was a blankness where he should’ve been. But then I realized, quite painstakingly, that it was a matter of wanting to fill that blankness. And, he didn’t. I’m not sure he ever wanted to. I’m not sure he ever cared.

This year he has graduated, and somewhere along the way, he died, and I was left blindsided. But I know why. Even though he stopped being my brother, I never stopped being his sister; his person. It’s not in me to stop. But I will tell you one thing. There’s nothing more sad, or pathetic than mourning a living person.

Life is a real b**** sometimes. It’s cruel, and it’s mean, and it’s stupid, and it’s random, but sometimes you can’t just stop, and look at all the screwed up crap you’re in. As hard as it is, you keep going. Because there is nothing else you can do.