On February 26th of 2003 my oldest brother passed away. He was barely 28, gay, and a drug addict. He overdosed while speed balling. My brother was also the only person in my family that made me feel like I was actually connected...He was brilliant, kind, and a year before he passed away he promised me that he was going to be the best big brother ever. He kept that promise until a few months before he died, when the drugs started to take over his life.
Samantha mentioned a few weeks ago some things about my brother...mainly that I miss him a lot more than I let on...which I do. I wish he was still here, I miss watching movies with him, I miss having him tell about a cool new CD, or him giving me rides to a coffee house so I can get a caramel white hot chocolate, while he got one of his pretentious caffeine fixes. The last few years of his life he was dating one of the best guys that I knew, they were both happy and he took care of my brother. Since my brother passed away, his boyfriend has stayed in touch and made sure that I made it through adolescence without too much damage. I was thinking about that today, so I decided to rummage through his boxes we have in the attic... I found his journal, is faux journal (the diary of a wanna be scenester) I forgot how artistic he was! Towards the end of his life he was doing portraits of his favorite music artists strictly by shading in with lyrics to their songs.
Maybe I’m just imagining this, but I think we have the same smile.
I'm not sad that I went through his things today, I'm actually really happy that I did. I miss him, and I'm okay with that.