Three years ago today, January 12th, 2009, my brother Justin passed away.
He was two months shy of his 26th birthday.
Three years later, I'm here, writing this, with every feeling and emotion as strong and painful and real as back then. You know, it really doesn't get easier over time. One learns to deal with it better, but it doesn't get easier. No, no way. I think about him every single day, whether it be the good or the bad or the absurd or the funny or our childhood or the last time that we hung out. I swear that I remember more about him now then when he was around. Maybe because I know how important those memories are.
Three years later, and I can see where I've taken inspiration from his strengths. He always tried hard at the things that mattered to him. He never stood for anyone's crap, and definitely wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind. He wasn't just intelligent, but he possessed cleverness, something sorely lacking in so many people today. If you know me, then I hope that you have seen that I try my best to emulate these qualities.
Three years later, and I would still trade my life for a chance for him to have a fulfilling adulthood. I can't do that, so the next best thing I can do is to try my hardest to make this life that I have the best it can be. Both him and my mom are my inspiration to overcome every obstacle I encounter and my dedication to every positive stride I take in this life.
Three years later, and I can't not cry on this day.
Three years later, and I still miss him so much that it hurts.
Three years later, and I love him as as much as ever.