It's very bad tonight.
My chest is solid with hurt, because I can't see my brother in front of me. I'm forever squeezing my eyes shut so that I can picture him there, and it actually makes the pain stronger because I know it's all I'm going to get.
I don't understand how someone that tall, with that much physical presence, how someone who was so very there not be there anymore. How does that happen? How is that where once he would sprawl on a carpet and fill a whole room, now there is nothing but the most frustrating kind of empty space?
How can someone just not be here anymore?
It's ridiculous, like sitting in a 3-D theatre and reaching out to grab the image in front of you. I find myself focusing on a patch of air and it's like a stab through the heart when I shake myself out of it.
Do you realize...? No, of course you don't realize. Or maybe you do. I don't know. I don't know. All I know is that I'm now grappling with a 25 and a half years, 6 feet 3 inches, two hundred and something pounds worth of empty space, and it's everywhere. Everywhere.
Everywhere I look is somewhere else where he's not.
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