Being Alone Means Bad Relapses

Second to the right, farthest to the right.

R.I.P. Brandon Matthew Craner

2/18/1992 - 4/29/2010

I miss you, Brandon.

I miss all of us.

You’re gone.

Jess is states away.

I’m at college.

Jack’s at home.

We’re all so apart, and I hate it. I wish you had never gone. Maybe then, everything would be different.

Why did you go?

No. Why did you LEAVE?

We were supposed to be the oldest cousins. We were supposed to be the ones our siblings could look up to, the ones that did everything right, the ones that were great people. Why couldn't we be that? Why did you have to leave us? What was so entirely bad that you had to take your own life, and leave us, all of us, struggling behind?

Whenever I'm here alone, and its quiet, I think about you. I think about how much I miss you, how much everyone misses you. How different all our lives would be if you hadn't left. How much pain we never would have felt. I cry. I remember the day you did it. I remember the funeral. I remember the burial. I remember the pain after. I remember the emptiness and numbness. I remember the year later. I remember stupid things we did as kids. 

Does this pain ever go away? Will you tell me? It went away when Papa passed, but that was different. That was cancer. That took him. You took yourself. What a god damn stupid choice. Why the fuck did drugs seem like a good idea to you that day? Why the fuck did drugs seem like a good idea to you any day?! I'm so angry...