To Dean

Dean, I can’t be mad at you. You were my second half for 22 years. I would’ve done anything to have had my little brother for much much longer. But you couldn’t take it anymore. I’m just going to miss you so so much. I don’t doubt that you loved me, loved all of us. And I know that the happiness you had–even at the end–was real and true. I wish you would have opened up about your inner turmoil. That just wasn’t you though, was it?
I’m trapped in that bathroom with you though Dean. I can’t stop thinking about what was passing through your mind as you lit that grill, tapped the door, and put our pictures around you. Anytime I hear a household sound I wonder if you heard the same before you went to sleep. I hurt so badly Dean. To see dad fall to his knees. To know mom was so far away and to hear her on the phone. To see Kristy try to rush past the cops. Did you remember when we would try to splash the water out of the tub as kids when you layer down in it? Did you remember the times when we would ride on grandma’s knees as you wheeled the grill in past her chair? I can’t stop thinking about all of this. I’m trapped in there with you.
I know you didn’t want to hurt us. I know that you knew it would, but you still felt like this was what you needed to do. I’m trying to be happy that you’re at peace Dean. But I’m a terribly selfish brother. I want nothing more than for you to barge into my room and laugh again.
I love you Dean. I’ll always miss you.

 

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