Two months. Two months since I touched your face. Two months since I said I love you to the back of your head as you walked into moms house. I wish I knew the exact time. That precise last minute and image is so hazy now, all mixed up with the sadness. Some days you’re all I can think about. I spend whole chunks of time lost somewhere between laughing at memories and crying about ones that I’ll never have a chance to make. Other days I can’t bring myself to even think of you because if your face even crosses my mind I feel like I can’t breathe. I’ve been avoiding writing this post for weeks. Thinking of what to say and how I could possibly be helpful. I’ve come to realize the only helpful thing is honesty. All I have is my truth.

Sometimes it’s like being caught in the eye of the storm. All I can do is stare blankly at the aftermath. Friends left feeling guilty. Parents left so broken-hearted that I can’t even figure out what to say to them next. Little cousins learning about something like suicide from losing someone they loved and looked up to. Other times I am the storm. Heaving with anger and pain and doubt and grief and guilt. Sometimes whole selfish hours are spent thinking of my own loss. A sister without a brother. A sister who is getting married this weekend and so badly wishes their brother would be there. I’ve dreamt of my wedding day for so many years. The image of what it would be has evolved so drastically over my lifetime, but it has always included him. Trips to Walmart spent in a daze. Passing the cat food 4x before seeing it. Running into people I know and watching their faces contort and fill with such pain or pity or sorrow when they see me that I wish I could ease their discomfort somehow.

I am taking steps, though (most days).

I’m moving forward because that is what you do. I am learning that courage looks a lot like brushing your hair and smiling at one person a day. Courage looks like parents who are so brave and strong and keep fighting even when they want to give up. I am learning to reach out and hold on like hell to Julia when it feels like nothing will ever be worth this enormous amount of pain. I am learning to have hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams that have been drastically changed by losing Jake, but are now the only ones that make any sense. I am learning how to see through the glasses of grief that have been strapped to my eyes for two months.

I am blown away by the support. By my parents and their partners and all of the love we have found amongst the rubble. By my close friends who dropped everything to be there and who have not put a time limit on my grief. They have shown me so much love and understanding. I am blown away by our community for showing all of us the power of connection and friendships and the love he spread throughout this world.

Our wedding is so close now. I’ll be thinking of you all day long. I’ll make sure the bow tie you bought for the wedding looks good on my bouquet. I still can’t believe you’re not gonna be standing next to me. I just know how happy you are that I am marrying Ju. I know you know you left me in the best hands possible.

I miss you brother. I love you so much.

With Jake’s heart, and all the courage I can muster

Kelsey