I don't even know what to write today, but I feel it. It's probably pain. Sometimes it's easier to write about pain than joy.
I've been thinking a lot about my brother. We're on 8 months since he left. The more time that passes, I lose more of my understanding of the situation.
My family battles anxiety and depression. I feel it in my blood. Sometimes my heart weighs with an unreasonable darkness. In these moments I seek out my loved ones: Dave, my mom, and so many others. I admit that Mark wasn't my first call when I felt wrong.
Did he think about our mom? Did he think about me? He could talk to me. The weeks before he passed, he came to my house and/or texted me frequently. I could see his pain. We talked about his life. He loved so hard and he found uncommitted women, who played it like an instrument. I tried so hard to help. Even my kids seemed to sense it, bringing their ponies or princesses to him to play.
I think about those women he loved in different ways. Maybe that love he wanted so bad, that lasting relationship he looked for was a ways off. It's hard to let go of what you know in hopes of something better. He deserved so much better than he got.
I believe in love. Heavenly Father gave him family. Family that loved him through everything. I knew his secrets. So many secrets, mistakes, and hurt. I knew him and I loved him. The life is about who we become, not who we were or are. It's about the process of transformation.
I believe Mark was transforming and changing is so hard. So hard.
Hell, I just miss him so much. I hugged him each time I saw him. He gave awful hugs, they always felt like a skeleton even with weight gain, but they were him.
I think there is something to remember beyond him. Something I can't put my finger on, but something he wanted to leave for people who hurt. If you know, will you let me know, cause I could use some real insight.
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