It's a paradox.

It's a paradox: The longer you're gone, the more I grieve.

The more I wonder.

I grew up knowing the warmth of his smile and wonder if yours would've been just as sunny

I wonder if your voice would've sounded as similar, or if I would've been able to tell it was you even over the phone

I wonder if my jokes would make you laugh just as much, until your kind blue eyes started to water and you couldn't catch a breath

I wonder if you would've turned out to be my best friend, too.

The longer the time since I was a kid that December,

The more I wish for just one Christmas with you close.

I grew up holding on to vague flashbacks and wonder if I was on my tiny tip-toes to peer up into your little hospital bed

I wonder how the tubes and lights and sounds never scared you

I wonder when I understood it to be a paradox for only one brother to come home with us

I wonder when I'll go Home with you there, too.