death

An Open Letter to My Dead Brother, June 2015

Dear Connor,

I had another dream about you last night, this time that I pushed you against the upstairs banister, causing you to fall through the bars, face first down to ground level. You were dead, it was all my fault, and you looked a lot like you did when I found your unconscious, damp body in real life. I woke up shaking and wide-eyed. Needless to say, it was a rough morning.

Mom just vividly described Gran’s gaudy, pink-nightmare of a casket to Aaron and, in doing so, reminded me that she and Dad couldn’t bear to put your ashes in the ground. Your cremated remains are held in a polished, wooden, latched box in your room. (more…)

An Open Letter to My Dead Brother, April 2015

Dear Connor,

The first of April has come and gone, so happy 20th birthday, little brother. When I had originally drafted this piece on February 23, and it had been exactly six years and five months since you died. Google says that’s about 2,344 days — or, as you would prefer, 202,490,275,166,666,688 nanoseconds. Sounds like a long time, right? Some days, it feels like it. Other days, it feels more like just a week has passed.

I’m still mad you’re gone, but over the past few years, my anger and frustration have started to feel more… empty.

(more…)

An Open Letter to My Dead Brother, February 2013

Dead Connor,

I was thinking about you this morning. And afternoon. I think about you a lot these days, a lot more than I used to. (more…)

An Open Letter to My Dead Brother, September 2012

Dear Connor,

Today is one of the few days of the year for which I cry hardest over you, and it amazes me that it has only been four years since I came home and found you dead.

(more…)

An Open Letter to My Dead Brother, September 2013

Dear Connor,

It’s yet another somber day in our household as we each take a couple moments to remember how you left us five years ago today. (more…)