I’ve never known a broken heart until my brother died this past weekend.
I am sorry. For every misstep I’ve ever made no matter how large or small, for every wrong I’ve ever done. Not taking a minute out of my shitty, self absorbed miserable life to count my abundant blessings, preferring instead to cry about having a smaller dick.
And he was such a self absorbed fucker, same as me. I can’t erase the shameful, tragic, and even resentful memories from his darkest times. Nor I can’t sing of sunshine and roses when that was never the case. I can’t distill his existence into any trope or allegory. He was all of it, the good and the bad.
And now it’s done and that’s it.
Except that’s all it ever is, for all of us.
I miss you.