OTHNIEL
It's been 11 years. You'll be 16 this year. Sometimes I sit on the bus, thinking about you, thinking how life would be different without you, thinking how your presence would have made things better. Sometimes i sit in the silence, thinking of how smart you were, and how cute you were, how you loved Bon Jovi's Always, how you would sing out loud and jump on the bed. Thinking how you had so much faith, how you were fearless in the face of death, how you prayed, how you taught us to pray and believe when you were only five. You knew you were different, with your yellow eyes and unnaturally large stomach, a yellow tinge in your skin, but you stood through it all, countless times the needle passed through your skin, operations, and pain. I would think about how I should have spent all my time with you and love you and buy everything you want before your time with me ended. I think about if you were 16 this year, i would have to fend off all the girls who would be interested in you. If you were alive, you would be with me in youth ministry, and you would have a great voice, you would be a leader, you would lead worship, and you would inspire others with experiences beyond your years. You fuel me with your energy you left behind and gave me every inspiration to make me write the essays that won prizes, and run the races that were gruelling and tough but gave lightness to my every step.
Don't let me forget you, even when my skin starts to degenerate and wrinkles start to appear. Don't let me forget your strength in fragility, the strong grip of your tiny hand, the loud voice from your tiny frame. I will not forget you even if age catches up with me, even if my memory starts to fail and my vision starts to fade. I will not forget that you said," pray, pray." I will not forget that you fought every battle thrown at you.
I miss you my little brother. I will see you in heaven.
9:35 PM.