I've been so angry.
I drove by your house today for the first time in three years.
It sucked.
Because when I looked in the window of grandpa's old office, it wasn't me and little brother helping you set up the Christmas tree, it wasn't us setting up your nativity set, and it wasn't us laughing.
It was a plain old office with a tiny Christmas tree set up on the desk. The day bed isn't there.
The blinds were turned down in my yellow room so I couldn't see what was changed. But I'd like to think that the view would be me and little brother playing with our tea set, action figures, drawing portraits in our sketchbook, and watching movies on the VHS player. The laughter, the arguing, the memories, gone.
We had no clue when, but somewhere, we knew that there would be a last time for everything. A last time chatting on the back porch, the last Sherlock episode, the last Christmas movie, the last ice cream, the last SpongeBob episode, the last thrift shop visit, the last dollar general trip, and the worst; the last "hi Grandma!" And the last goodbye.
Sleepovers, bath time, the way the oven sounded when my parents would come eat dinner, and the sound of everyone together.
Now my dad just cries, because he never got his last goodbye.
I think about all the texts we sent to each other and how short and impatient I was. If I had known that our time together was coming to an end, would I have treated you differently? Would I have visited more often? And stayed the night one last night? I still have conversations with you. We're on the back porch drinking coffee again, and you're telling me theres nothing to worry about again, and how Jesus was coming back and what not. I have so many dreams, dreams of you wrapping your arms around me and telling me that I'm okay, and dreams of you dying over and over again and how you looked that night. You looked asleep, and my mind imagined you were breathing, so you were only sleeping.
You didn't actually die, in fact, youre still at your house on Escabosa, staying up late watching Sherlock again. And the only reason you're not asking me to come over and watch is because your phone died. Your phone has been dead for a while now, so if you could, could you please charge it? I miss talking to you. I miss seeing your name pop up on my screen on my worst days.
You'll probably call me in the morning. "Hey honey, I'm bored. Wanna come watch Sherlock?" And I'll head over there because back then, I didn't work on Saturdays, in fact, I didn't even have a job to worry about. So I'll head over there with Harvey cause you love Harvey, and so do Bella and Oreo. We will watch Sherlock again, and keep rewatching it because we love it so much. Except it wont end, because I won't let it. I dont want it to end. Because the minute the credits roll and the tv goes blank, you'll be gone. And I'll be alone again.
