Seven months and fourteen days after you left
It’s your birthday
49 would have been the magical number
But you killed yourself before you could reach it

It’s been seven months and fourteen days.
We have survived this long with out you; will we last longer?
It surprises me how much your death has affected me; yet not at all.
I get to see my mother now, that’s the biggest difference.
And I’m not sure I would give her back up to have you again.

I loved you, don’t ever mistake that.
We all did.
But you were hurting my mother.
And she comes first.
You didn’t realize how badly you were hurting her,
Or at least I hope you didn’t.
You suicide has affected her badly; yet not as much as I thought.

Suicide is a loaded word.
The connotation is of emotion teenagers,
Stereotypically called “emo”.
Nooses, slit wrists, drugs.
But your mode was of none of those.
No, alcohol was your weapon of choice.

Your choice has me intrigued, yet disgusted.
Trying to be a “regular” teenager,
Yet I don’t want to turn into you.
You just wanted to be “normal” too.
Yet look at how that turned out for you.

Seven months and fourteen days it has been.
Everyday there are reminders of you.
Signs warning against alcoholism,
Symptoms of suicide.
All of your little hobbies are everywhere.
Coins, pins, swords.
All are constant reminders.

It has been seven months and fourteen days.
And I loved you as my family.
Images of my wedding floated through my mind.
You on one arm, my biological father on the other.
Well you have ruined that one of my dreams.
No more will be ruined because of you.

It has taken me seven months and fourteen days,
But I am finally ready to say it.
Goodbye.
As much as you didn’t want it,
You will be missed