Letter 24

I haven't written to you in a while, but today became the day I couldn't ignore this 24th letter forcing its way out.

I've been feeling it coming for a while. There are times I am able to understand everything about what has happened and times when it doesn't matter if I understand. The immense sorrow and void of you gone out ways any healing I've done. Our dance as brother and sister existing in two different worlds hasn't been easy. 

I keep this picture of myself at 5 years old in my bedroom on my shelf. I do this as a reminder to honor the child part of me, the part of me that has required a lot of love, understanding and healing before I ever lost you. It's the one picture I didn't discover of myself until my early 20's, but it's the one picture that's spoke to me the most though I'm unable to pinpoint why. As I became filled with emotion today I looked at this picture of her, of myself, and I could hear that little girl,

"I miss him, I miss my brother, Jesse."

I completely unraveled at that moment and allowed myself to feel what was waiting to be felt.

She, I , we miss you. I miss feeling a sense of belonging with you, a sense of family, a sense of coming home to. Growing up I so proud when people knew I was, "Jesse's little sister." Even at 35 years old I still crave it.

About a year after you had died, one of your high school friend's, JIm Wenger, got in touch with me. He had traveled frequently for work and it ended up bring him to Charleston where I was living. I'll never forget the first time we got to spend time together just visiting and talking, laughing and eventually allowing our tears while we sat on my porch.

He was a piece of you.

He is a piece of you.

On his visit this past September I can remember sitting at my dining room table talking. I told him about the new person who had come into my life, a man named, Andrew, and how much I really loved him.

He was so happy for me and in that moment I got to feel you, my brother, happy for me.

Some time later the phone rang and it was, Andrew. I put him on FaceTime so he could meet Jim and as they exchanged greetings, I asked Jim to tell Andrew about you.

"Tell him something about, Jesse." I said.

So there he was telling the person who I loved about my brother, about your spunk, your personality, a story or two, now all simply memories. I sat there in that moment with a grin as I watched them converse with each other. Although the moment was fleeting, I was able to feel proud again like that little girl in the picture, or the preteen who was eager to tell someone who her brother was.

In that moment I was able to, in my own way, have the person I fell in love with meet the brother I once had. 

The brother I so desperetly miss.