A Letter to My Brother

Dear Justin,

When you died, everything changed. Everyone changed.

It’s been 29 years now and we still can’t

mention your name without mom crying,

so we try not to bring it up.

I was talking to a guy once, who shared your name,

so I lied and told her his name was Drew.

When she does talk about you, she often wonders what

you would have become, wonders if you miss her, wonders

if you know how sorry she is for spanking you the day before you died.

She told me once that she still longs to be with you and that

losing you

was

like

drowning.

And dad, well, he doesn’t talk about you much,

probably because he was there when you got shot,

and he blames himself. When I ask him about you

and the day that you died, he always changes the subject.

J doesn’t talk about you either, which isn’t surprising

since he’s the one who pulled the trigger. It was an accident,

but the guilt has latched on to him and won’t let go.

He also no longer believes in God, he’s never said why,

but we think it’s because he blames Him for allowing it to happen,

for allowing you to die.

And as for me, well, I miss you. I don’t know how

I can miss you when I’ve never known you, but I do.

Mom’s always said that I remind her of you,

maybe that's why.

Maybe it’s less about me missing you

and more about the fact that I’m hoping to

find myself in you. That something in me is

missing and that “something” is you.

I’ve always felt disconnected, like I didn’t belong,

and I miss you because I know that if you were here,

things would be different. I came along

after you died, and I recognize the fact that

I’ll always be a reminder of what our family lost.

Justin, your death set off a chain reaction that affected

me before I was even born. Not only did I miss out on meeting you,

but I’ve never known what it’s like to have a family that’s whole,

and as odd as this may sound,

I envy you that.

Forever Your Sister,

Hannah