The tree held a lot of painful memories, but somehow it was always made me feel protected. Evil became eliminated from the real world surrounding us. Everyday, people would
walk past that tree mindlessly, not thinking a single thought. Every time the tree crossed my mind, I couldn't control the thousands of memories that took over. It started off as somewhere I would go to pick flowers and play with my baby brother. Happy as could be, I didn’t have a single ounce of stress, drama, or anger.
Fast forward six years,  the tree is where I would go to get away from the hysterical screams of my mother and my father’s constant denial. I didn't understand much. Why were mom and dad were crying? Every time I would go to the tree, I felt as if I was reunited with my baby brother. I just couldn't understand why they couldn't do the same.
Fast forward another three years, I was twelve years old. I now understood now why my parents couldn't just go to the tree and pretend he was there. In fact, it was getting increasingly harder and harder for me to do the same. I knew that everything fell apart a long time ago. As a twelve year old, I was convinced things would eventually turn around. I know we would go back to picking flowers at the tree and being a family once again.
As time continued, our lives moved forward and my father switched from denial to complete anger. He was always blaming himself, feeling weak, helpless, and useless. My mother’s hysterical cries turned into complete silence. She slowly deteriorated, never speaking a word, never coming downstairs for dinner, always alone. As for me, I felt as if I wasn't allowed to let my pain affect me. The only people I had left were growing more and more distressed every day. I forced myself to remove any memory I had of the day that changed my life forever.
As time continued, I stopped going to the the tree and I started shutting myself down. I promised myself that I'd be strong for my entire family but things were becoming more and more unbearable. I sat my parents down and told them we were not a family anymore. I couldn’t take it anymore and I admitted that I needed them more than ever. My parents didn't seem to care very much but I knew that they realized I was right.
When three years passed since the day I lost my baby brother, I decided it was time to wish him happy birthday. I knelt down next to the tree and said, “Hi baby brother I know you haven't heard from me in a long time. But I need you to help mom and dad. They can't get over the fact that you're gone and I don't know how much more any of us can really take. I love and miss you lots... happy eighth birthday.” I began to choke up so it ended there, but I know that he knew what I meant.
Three days later I decided it was time for me to go sit underneath the tree and talk to him  about what happened. I couldn't find the right words because I knew there were no words to describe what happened so I sat there and did my best to put my thoughts into sentences. I wrote, “I don't understand how anyone could have so much evil and hatred in them to take you away from us. I miss you more and more each day. Remember when we would run around this tree without a care in the world? Running through the green grass that dad always made sure looked its best... well at least back when he cared about things. We played hide and seek and you would always hide behind the tree, thinking that I would never see you. Remember how we were just kids and enjoyed the simple things with no worries in the world? I wish you could be here with me now. We could grow and experience life together forever. I wish he didn't take you away from me.” My tears dropped on the paper and I could no longer see what I was writing. That was enough for one visit.
The next day I woke up with an empty feeling in my heart and a knot in my stomach. I would just take it easy for the rest of the day, so I would attempt to sleep. Eventually however, I couldn’t help myself and I decided to go to the tree to write again. Once I started writing I couldn't seem to stop myself; In one day, I ended up writing three pages. I guess my parents had their ways of coping and now I found mine as well.
I prayed things would get better each day and that I could see my parents recover. But each day my wish never came true.  I was always left feeling completely helpless. The only person I could talk to was my baby brother. As strange as it might sound, I knew he was listening and I knew he was there. The absence of my parents only made me grow weaker. Every time I felt as if I was moving forward, I got set back even farther from where I started. I started thinking it would be a good idea for me to start dating the entries in my journal.
June 15, 2016: mom and dad started talking today. I heard the voices from outside the tree and was relieved that my mother’s silence finally had a voice. I went inside with the little hope that when I walked through those doors, everything would go back to how it was before. I hesitated opening that door. And when I did, all I saw was yelling and cries, cries that symbolized nothing but sorrow and despair. Nothing was getting better and I just didn't see the point anymore. My parents had given up. They had given up on me, our family, and on life. I realized that I didn't just lose my baby brother that day. That man took my entire family away from me, and in other words, he took my own life from me. Please do not think that I gave up on our family I held on with everything I had left inside of me. Eventually, I realized that I couldn't do it alone, even though that was what I was forced to do. Life wasn't worth it anymore and I couldn’t hold on to the whole family, especially being that I was the only one trying. I don't want you to worry about me. Now, I'll be with my baby brother and you'll know we're both okay.
  Love you always,
Peyton