I am 5 years old and it is freezing outside. It's hard to move in my bulky snowsuit, but you are in the pine trees and calling for help, so I crawl forward with tears on my face because my hands hurt and I can't find you. You must have heard me crying, because you appeared out of nowhere, your 7 year old face creased in concern. "Jaim, I was only playing!" you exclaimed before noticing my angry red hands, "Oh man. Here, take my gloves," you said, shoving them onto me. Then, an afterthought: "Don't tell Mom, okay?"
I am 7 years old, and you are pretending to be a wizard from Harry Potter with your friend, and Mia and I keep shouting 'VOLDERMORT,' and a few days later, you let me start reading your books, and I feel like you think I'm cool.
I am 8 years old and you and your best friends are letting me ride on your quads and dirtbikes with you, and teaching me how to drive them at the bottom of the hill.
I am 10 years old, and you come running inside with a war cry. You have your paintball gun in your hands. You yell, "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND EVERYONE!" and shoot the ceiling. You didn't realize you still had a paintball loaded, and the ceiling bursts and is splattered with pink paint. I can't quit laughing as you frantically wipe paint off and arrange the plaster so that it's not as noticeable when you walk in and you ask me if I think they'll notice right away.
I am 12 years old and Mia is dead on the bed beside us. Mom is crying and you are around the corner. I am watching you stare out the window and wondering if you or I will ever be okay again.
I am 13, and I have been self-harming when you walk in and I drop the knife. You check on me for months afterwards and demand I quit wearing wrist bands once I have healed. You tell me that we have lost enough and you don't want to lose me too.
I m 14 years old and you pick up my friend and me from the movies. You have one of your friends with you and you say, "I bet I can knock that barrel off the road man." When you bust the front passenger side, you talk me into telling mom she did it.
I had just turned 15 and we had "Freyerstock" on the porch and I was convinced that someday, you would be as big as Blink 182 because you were so fun to watch.
I am 15 and you are yelling at all your drunk friends to not talk to me or even look at me at a party.
I am 16 and crying in my closet because my dickhead boyfriend has decided to torment me by saying he doesn't want to go to Kennywood anymore, even though we had plans and tickets already. You ease down onto the floor of the closet across from me and you tell me that he is not worth it, that I am worth more than this, that I shouldn't be with someone who would make me cry and to "Tell him he better watch out because if I ever catch him around here after I saw him make you cry like this, I'll beat his fucking ass."
I am still 16 and on the phone in my room when you pound on the door and tell me to hang up. I am annoyed when I open the door. "What?"
You grab the back of you neck and shrug a little with that smirk you got when you were doing something you shouldn't. "..... Kassie's pregnant?" you said, like a question, like you weren't sure. You smiled so big while I howled with laughter. You were so excited to be a dad.
I am 17 years old and we're at the courthouse, and you bring over Delaney so I can hold her for the very first time. You kiss her toes and fingers and promise that you will see her soon. She looked just like you.
I am 18 years old and we're driving somewhere. I don't know where. My Own Worst Enemy come on and you start singing and dancing around while lighting up a cigarette and I am not even a little phased as I light my own and we went off the road.
I am 19 and we're sitting on the couch while I tell you I'm pregnant and don't know what to do.
20 and you're holding my first son for the first time.
21 and too wrapped up in my own life to see you starting to slip.
22 and crying on the phone in my car, on 228, asking you if you were going to quit. Telling you that I don't want you to die.
23 at a corn maze after you came home and you're chasing my second son around and I am so happy to be spending time with you.
23 and visiting you at Gateway with my kids after you relapsed again, chasing them around, thinking you looked healthier than you had in months.
24 and you're in the hospital, holding my last baby.
24 and on the phone with you, talking about nothing.
24 and it's Christmas and I'm begging you to get clean.
It's Christmas and I am crying in my room on the phone with you and I am pretty sure you're high.
24 and you're 26 and I don't want you to die.
You've turned 27 now and you are still too young to die and you're my big brother and I don't know if I will be okay without you.
I am still 24 and I am telling you to get your shit together. I am 24 and I am telling you that I don't want you to die and you tell me that you don't want to die, either, but you don't know if you want to get better.
I am 24 and you send me a message on facebook and I message you back but when you video call me, I don't pick up because the kids are fussing and I am tired and I will call you back this week.
I am 24 and you are dying and everyone else keeps telling me it is so weird because they woke up that night but I slept through it. I slept the whole night and I didn't dream of you but at work mom came in and she told me you were dead and the only thing I could think was that I never called you back.
I am 24 and you are dead.
I miss you so much.
I wonder if I will ever be okay again.
