Because he died #sibblingloss #Broke
Because he died I have to live, and I don’t mean I can not die I mean I have to live every day knowing I want to die. I have to continue to put one foot in front of the other regardless of how impossibly hard it is to do, there is no other option than to be strong and keep going.
I can’t tell you how many times I have wished it was me, how many silent prayers to take me instead that I have said.
You see no parent should burry a child, no parent should out live there child. And I’d be damned if I’d make my parents do it twice, they deserve better than that. So I struggle to continue day in and day out, I draw my next breath wishing I wasn’t and praying that it all ends soon. Except I can’t send that prayer off because at my own hand or at the hands of anything else my death is still something I can not allow to happen.
Because he died I must live. And the hardest part of all is that merely surviving is not enough, the guilt I feel for not living and loving my life is insane. That I take each day as a burden rather than a precious gift is disgusting, trust me if I could fix me I would have done it years ago. However I will always put one foot in front of the other because he died.
I wish I could have made him proud, I wish I could make everyone proud. But I simply can not at this point in time do anything more than survive. Some days I catch myself praying to get past this and be whole, but little do you realise that when god called you home you took far too much of me with you. From the moment those words left his lips that you were gone I’ve resented him, in that moment time stood still. Sometimes I wonder if it has begun to move again, so much of me is broken now.
I lost my brother and my best friend, and I struggle every damn day to live since. He had no say in his fate, yet here I am silently wishing and praying I wasn’t here. I don’t feel like I will ever be “ok” again.