Heaven

Hi Chris,

I’m almost angry at you today. I know none of this is your fault, but why the hell did you leave us? I’ve never seen Mom and Dad this sad. They both think the other is sadder. I couldn’t pick. It’s more striking with Dad tho. Mom always wears her heart on her sleeve. And you were her baby, I expected the worst. But Dad’s heart is broken and you can see it on his face. He walks around the house remembering you and crying quietly, in disbelief.

I had a first appointment with a therapist today, she was wonderful. She said “we’re not programmed for this type of processing.” That’s true for me, James, and Kate. We’re not supposed to lose our baby brother. But for a parent it’s worse - so profoundly backward.

And selfishly I mourn not only you, but me. The death of part of my life. Or at least the life I imagined. All the conversations we would have had. Our brains fit so well together. We even talked about starting a business one day... 

Some people have pointed out that all this is sadder for us than for you. Is that true? You’re somewhere better? Paradise even? Or nowhere.

I want to believe so badly. I haven’t in such a long time. But now, at times, I think I might. I know it’s because I want it to be true (I want you to still be somewhere), but I’m at peace with this reason. I’m jealous of those who are sure. Like Mr. Vecchio. Or Konsti. I told Konsti I feel guilty sometimes when I’m having a good moment - that it doesn’t match the terribleness of what happened. He felt it too with his Mom. “They smile at us about that type of silliness, you know” he said. I love that image. You smiling down. I know he believes it. You should find his Mom. She was the best. Just like you. She’ll make you spanakopita and talk to you about everything and nothing. You should sing for her. That really does sound like Heaven. 

Love,

Me