I am not an only child.
Sep. 28th, 2004 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
same_skyEvery year, I write something for my brother, who was killed in a car accident when I was sixteen. I kind of discontinued our homepage a while back (although I actually did leave the Scotty stuff there, and I added this page to it already.. it's just not linked to from anywhere) so I thought I might as well post this here.
I can't believe this is the sixth year I've done this. I've said before that I'm hung up on numbers when it comes to you. This year is nine, and I'm having a really hard time dealing with what comes after nine. Ten years is a very large span of time, especially at this point in my life, and it's incomprehensible that in one year, I'll have spent that much time without you around. Then again, I suppose it's just a number, after all--no need to dwell on it yet. I think it's probably been harder so far to think about than it will be at this time next year.
I'm late again, writing this. I've thought about it for the last three months, but I haven't been able to put fingers to keyboard, or if I have, I haven't been able to finish it. For some reason, it's even harder than normal to make myself do it. I think I'm feeling particularly emotional in other ways, and it's harder to make myself work on something that I know will upset me.
After six years of posting something here, I wonder sometimes what I should say that I haven't already said. Lately, I've been thinking about the things that have allowed me to put this off for so much longer than normal.. you know, big life changes. I guess what I've been thinking the most will come out sounding a little hokey, but I'm going to say it anyway. I can't shake the feeling that most of the good things in my life were sent my way by you in one way or another. I might not admit that out loud, to real people, but I do. I mean, M for instance. I so wish that he could have met you--but I secretly console myself with the idea that you had a hand in sending him my way. Romantic idea, I suppose, but there you have it--and doesn't the string of coincidences that led to us even meeting suggest that there's something otherworldly going on anyway? I started my new job on the ninth anniversary of your death. I like to think that you therefore understand why I've been a little busier than normal, for I just don't entirely believe that's a coincidence, either.
I still miss you.
I can't believe this is the sixth year I've done this. I've said before that I'm hung up on numbers when it comes to you. This year is nine, and I'm having a really hard time dealing with what comes after nine. Ten years is a very large span of time, especially at this point in my life, and it's incomprehensible that in one year, I'll have spent that much time without you around. Then again, I suppose it's just a number, after all--no need to dwell on it yet. I think it's probably been harder so far to think about than it will be at this time next year.
I'm late again, writing this. I've thought about it for the last three months, but I haven't been able to put fingers to keyboard, or if I have, I haven't been able to finish it. For some reason, it's even harder than normal to make myself do it. I think I'm feeling particularly emotional in other ways, and it's harder to make myself work on something that I know will upset me.
After six years of posting something here, I wonder sometimes what I should say that I haven't already said. Lately, I've been thinking about the things that have allowed me to put this off for so much longer than normal.. you know, big life changes. I guess what I've been thinking the most will come out sounding a little hokey, but I'm going to say it anyway. I can't shake the feeling that most of the good things in my life were sent my way by you in one way or another. I might not admit that out loud, to real people, but I do. I mean, M for instance. I so wish that he could have met you--but I secretly console myself with the idea that you had a hand in sending him my way. Romantic idea, I suppose, but there you have it--and doesn't the string of coincidences that led to us even meeting suggest that there's something otherworldly going on anyway? I started my new job on the ninth anniversary of your death. I like to think that you therefore understand why I've been a little busier than normal, for I just don't entirely believe that's a coincidence, either.
I still miss you.
