Hey, big brother.
No. Wait. Let me say it like you always did. “Hhheeeeeyyyy.” 🙂 You always said it a bit like Fonzi.
My birthday? I’m going to be 49. We often acted like twins and now we’ll actually be the same age.
I hate it. You’re my big brother. We’re not supposed to be the same age. And if I live until at least next year, what happens then? You have to be my big brother. Forever. But your forever wasn’t long enough, Phil. I miss you. So god damned much. My life often doesn’t feel right anymore. Nothing fills that hole that you left. I know, because I’ve tried a lot of things! Food, alcohol, running. Then other things to help with all the feelings–anti-depressants, therapy, yoga, writing. I guess in some ways I’m learning to deal with the fact that I can’t talk to you every day. But sometimes I just can’t deal with it. Those are the days that I just fake it, find a place to cry, fake it some more then go to bed.
Do you remember this song, Phil? You put it on one of the running cds you made me. I wonder about it now. Did you put it on there because of the beat or because it’s about being there for your siblings? And did you know the video was about the brother dying? The first time I heard the song after you died, I sobbed until I nearly threw up.
I know. You’re probably sick of me talking about how much I miss you and how many fucking tears I’ve cried because you’re not here. Fine.
Let’s talk about the kid. I wish you could see him, Phil. He’s your height now. Sometimes he laughs just like you. Even his cough sounds like yours! He’s so bright and funny and mostly kind. I like him. You would, too.
You know there’s a new David Sedaris book that just came out. I’ll listen to it for you, ok? A new Batman movie just came out, too. Haven’t seen it yet. I have difficulties with some things still. There will always be films or books or events that remind me of you. Some I’ll be able to handle, and others not so much. I’ve been watching a show on Netflix, “Sex Education.” It’s a freakin’ riot and it’s something I would love to talk with you about. We’d have the best laughs and conversation over it.
But…yeah. I guess we can’t. You know, someone will read this and say, “But you still can, Holly. You can talk to him and he’ll be listening.” *insert your scoff here* People mean well, Phil, they do. And sometimes I DO imagine you listening to me, laughing with me. I have to. Otherwise I’m not sure I could continue to put one foot in front of the other.
So let’s keep pretending, ok?
I love you. Until the day I die.
Hugs and sloppy kisses.