Cold

It seems that this cold is never going to stop, its been colder than I can ever remember it being in my life, so cold that it literally hurts to go out in it. At the same time I am starting to realize something just don’t change and time doesn’t heal wounds as fast as we would like it to. I know the drill, get up and move on—that’s the name of the game when anything bad goes down. But I kept moving for so long and not letting the big things bother me that its coming back to bite me in the ass now.

This past Christmas was the second anniversary of my brother’s death, though not a day goes by that I don’t think about him and miss him. Time really won’t remove that, I won’t get over it or just move on and all of the broken hearts in the world couldn’t do the damage that one death can.

At times I still pick up my phone and think to call him when I am bored, like I briefly forget out of force of habit. But it just makes the realization worse. I still think, “Man, John would love this shit,” when I see a movie or a game that I know he would like (Dante’s Inferno—come on tits and violence, he would have ate that game up).

And his book of drawings, the flag from his coffin and one of the swords he collected are still grouped together in my house in plain sight. A lot of bad shit has happened in the past two years, a lot of mistakes and a lot of regrets and some things I really just wish I had one more chance to do over and fix and say again or even just make one last case for. But its all piled on that one event and I don’t know how to rest and get this out. I’ve forgotten how. The stupidity of my youth protected me when my mom died, but I’m old enough to remember this and hold the thoughts of what happened close. It’s so much harder this time around.