"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

It’s been about a year and a half since you left us. All of us. Your family. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about you every day when I wake up or when something exciting happens and you’re the first person I want to tell. The thing is, you were so complicated. I think about how badly I want you here to see me grow up and make something of myself but when I am honest with myself, there’s no guarantees that you’d be present even if you still were alive. If funny now to think about how unstable you were.

I’m in my second semester of nursing school, Mikey is graduating high school in a few months (a miracle I know), Sammy graduates nursing school last spring and is pregnant and due in June and Tori is getting married next month. She’s actually getting married on your birthday, April 20th. The closer it gets the more we all say we wish you could be here. But wishing won’t bring you back.

Fact of the matter is that I’m still feeling every emotion about you choosing to leave this world. I get sad because I miss you so badly. Then I get angry with you because you had already caused us so much pain when you were alive and you added to that pain by making the choice to leave us. The anger always turns to guilt. Could I have done more? Would you still be here if I had agreed to go with you to that AA meeting? If I had done more research and found more rehab centers would you still be here? I feel guilty because I was the last person to see you that day. I remember sobbing, begging you to not leave and telling you that we could fix everything if you just stayed. But you went. You went and found a nice place in the woods and laid down to go to sleep forever.

I still visit that place in the woods where you were last awake and I like to sit and just read. It makes me feel close to you. Like you’re somehow around me when I am sitting there. It makes things seem a little clearer somehow.

I miss you so much it physically hurts some times and some days it’s enough to make me stay in bed until noon. But I hope I’ll make you proud one day and that you are somewhere happy watching over me. I love you so much and hope you’re no longer suffering.