October 13th

I hate this date. I hate it so much that I feel sick from it. It's the last day I saw my mother smile with her whole face. It's the last day I got to be young and 100% happy. It's the last time my family was "normal".

It's the date my brother was murdered.

Most of the time, it feels like I have come so far since that night. I take grim satisfaction in how hard I have fought to achieve some semblance of happiness and normalcy.

What a joke.

With the flip of a calendar page, I am right back there and I realize that nothing has changed in me. I expend so much energy trying to keep a lid on the rage, the sorrow, the loneliness and the fear born that night. When I am honest with myself, I know I don't do a very good job at it and it feels so futile.

That asshole might as well have shot me, too. He killed all of the good parts in me anyway. I'm doing the best I can with what is left of me but honestly, that's not saying much.

So selfish that I make today about me, isn't it? I mean, I'm not the one who didn't get a chance to grow up, have a job, raise a family, etc etc etc. True, I'm not and I wish so much that Jon could have had those things. On the other hand, he never had to give a eulogy for his first and best friend, have "friends" drift away like tragedy is contagious or listen to his mother cry herself to sleep night after night.

Who would I rather be? Yesterday, laying on the bed with Bonnie while she sang a babbling song to me, I wouldn't have traded places with anyone. This weekend when I let The Biggies stay up a little later to watch a movie with me, there will be no one I'd rather be than me. Today, though, with my loveys asleep or at school and nothing to keep me company but my memories, I'd rather be him. Times like this, I know he is the one who got off easy and I'd trade places with him in a heartbeat.