By the time I post this, today will be gone. But as of right now, today marks three years since the day you left us. Looking back, I can't believe how much has changed, and how much your death directly affected change in my life. Saying goodbye to Golden Triangle. Making a new (but not nearly as amazing) family at a new gym. Getting to know your family more than I ever imagined I would.
Today sucks to put it bluntly, but even more so than most July 23's, because I think today might just mark the end of this phase of my life. I've managed to mess things up pretty good with all the people and places that tie me to you, remind me of you. The truth is, I'm pretty broken up about it. All the people that I would have spent time with today aren't speaking to me. And I stormed out of the gym today, and I'm going to be leaving there very soon for the last time. When I look back on today, I'm mad and sad about the fact that I had to do today alone. The fact that no one I spoke to today knew you or loved you or could celebrate your life with me. It's like pulling off a band-aid, the thought that your memory couldn't hold us together forever.
I feel like I owe you an apology for not being able to take care of your family. Your mom just won't let go. She's comfortable in her pain, and I hurt so much for her because she has managed to let two people die trying so desperately to not forget you. She doesn't understand that remembering you and celebrating your life doesn't have to take away from hers. And Josh, I should have spent more time with him when he still wanted to spend time with me. I should have been more intentional. I should have listened more and maybe talked less. I should have filled the role of all aspects of big sister and not just the big sister who tells you when you're being an idiot. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for them, I truly am.
The fact that your mom has made herself so miserable hanging on to you has made me question some of my actions. I deleted your number from my phone, just yesterday. I just never wanted to, but I needed to take that active step in "letting you go" because if I didn't, I was afraid maybe I wasn't fully living like your mom isn't fully living because she's trying so hard to bring you back. And I know now that it's okay that I deleted your number. And it's okay that I want to move on. Moving on isn't forgetting. It's okay to move on. And I have after all this time, but it was just never on purpose. I have been very passive in it these past three years so that I wouldn't feel like I was doing something wrong, but now I know that I'm not. You would have known that, because you were much more mature than I am.
I might do this again, but probably not. So for the last time, let me tell you how much I truly love and miss you. And how much I adore you as a person. I've always wished I was half the person that you are. And how much I wish you hadn't left because from what I can see, nothing's changed for the better. Except that maybe I know not to waste my life now. But other than that, I wish so much that you hadn't left us. But even though we may not be the family that we once were, we all honor you and love you and remember you in our own individual ways. You are very much the thread that ties us all together, regardlesss of how many days or months or years we may go without talking. I will say what I said the first time. I can only hope and pray that your death has brought Him glory. And I guess I know that it has, because He is glorified in everything. I guess that has to be enough for me tonight, and for the rest of the time I get down here. I love you, Brit.
Bre
