Dear Phil,

Happy birthday, big brother. I miss you.

I continue to have conversations with you, but Phil? I’m scared. I’m not sure how you’d reply anymore. There are times when I think I’m forgetting you, forgetting what foods you liked or what you thought was funny and what was just ridiculous. But…it’s been 7 years so maybe your tastes and thoughts would have changed anyway. We all evolve, or hope to, right?

I’ve been watching the latest season of Bridgerton, and often wonder what you’d think about the show. You’d probably watch it since you got me into Downton Abbey, but this is much steamier and more diverse and just plain delicious! There’s gossip and sex and beautiful gowns and manipulation of pop tunes into classical dancing music. One of the latest storylines has a slightly larger than average sized woman as the romantic interest. You know how I love romance stories with larger women! I just watched the sex scene with the woman and her love interest, and yes, she’s rounder than your average actress, but for fuck’s sake! She’s gorgeous, flawless skin, beautiful breasts. Where are the women with back fat?!? I want to see a middle-aged or older actress, with rolls for a stomach, fat thighs and a cottage cheese ass. AND I want to see the man (or another woman, I don’t care) tell her how fucking beautiful she is. THAT is what the world needs to see.

*current rant over*

I can hear you laughing now. Agreeing with me, but laughing. “Calm down, Chuckles.”

Hey, the Bangor Pride Parade is this Saturday. The family is going–the kid and I, Bon, Am & Ky, too. Remember the last one we went to? It’s bigger now. The only thing I remember about that one in 2017 was that we needed a seat for you. You were gonna be there, one way or another, so I got out my lawn chair and my friend, Trish, helped get us settled or helped us leave. I don’t remember which now. I just remember being there with you, then getting grocery store sushi afterwards and eating at my house. Looking back, that was the day you tried to tell me you didn’t have a lot of time left. But I refused to believe it.

Anywho, did I tell you I’ve been going to Planet Fitness recently? I signed up with the boy in early May and I’ve been going faithfully 2-3 times a week. I’m not losing any weight, but I’ve gotten stronger and damn, I’m getting muscles! And talk about muscles?!? The eye candy at this gym is bananas. Plus the wide range of ages and shapes and sizes makes me happy. I don’t feel like a completely weak, old fat ass when I go there.

For my birthday I went out and bought clothes that I couldn’t afford but fit better. I’m sick of trying to fit into clothes that fit me a few years ago. Fuck it. I’m healthy and fit, so I might as well be comfortable and stop squeezing into things that make me feel fatter and more like a sausage than like the woman I am. Don’t you love that it’s taken me 51 years to finally get to the “fuck it” stage? But we both know it’s hard for me to hang onto that. Our self-esteem was always so wrapped up in our weight, both as kids and adults. I’m trying to shed that shit, but it’s not easy. I’ll keep trying though.

I was talking to one of my colleagues about you recently. I was telling her how sometimes I look at your Goodreads account to see what books you read that I haven’t. I want to read more of what you did, yet lately I’m reading mostly romances–straight, gay, lesbian, doesn’t matter. As long as it has good sex scenes and a happy for now (or forever after) ending, then I’m on it. There aren’t enough romances with middle-aged people, though. So many of them are people in their late 20s or early-mid 30s. We need more novels about people in their 50s who want to get laid or have their own happy for now ending. Most books with characters this age are dramatic or depressing. I don’t want a love story. That shit can mean a dead partner at some point. Too much reality. I want a friggin’ romcom with a woman who has the battle scars of a typical middle-aged woman–stretch marks, a possible c-section scar, tattoos, and all the mental and emotional baggage that comes with age. That has all the markings of a good romcom, doesn’t it?

So…I hate ending these letters, you know that, right? But I wanted to tell you something. I’ve told you about the Ralph Waldo Emerson quote that says, “…to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. That is to have succeeded!” Much of the rest of the quote is about appreciating beauty and to laugh a lot and all of those other things that we try to do. But I wanted to make sure you know, and I hope, hope, hope you knew, that you were tremendously successful. You made so many of us laugh and feel loved and breathe easier. Honestly? I feel like I haven’t been able to take a breath since you left.

I love you, my favorite brother.

Hugs & sloppy kisses,

Holly