Hate and pain a deadly combination that has been the ruin of many individuals unknowingly falling into the jaws of such a deep, black, inescapable tomb. For so long I found myself a victim of such imprisonment. When my brother took his own life just two years ago, I thought I would never again see the light of the world as I once had. Hate and pain. I hated him for leaving me, for leaving us, for not calling, for not telling us what was wrong. I felt guilty for hating him because he was gone. I hated myself for hating him, for not being there, for not calling, for not being there. Pain, why did I not see the pain he must have been feeling in order to do such a thing. The pain only a big sister can feel of knowing he would never see his twentieth year, he would never be able to enjoy the pleasures of being young and reckless, and the pain of knowing people would never get to witness or experience the beautiful soul that was my baby brother.
The light of the world has begun to shine through in unexpected shades of friendship, loyalties, space, and love. Bright yellows and deep blood reds are the shades of friendships undeserved for some time but never failing to provide a shoulder when the occasion arose. Florescent starlight always prepared to whisper good fortune in the name of sister. Black as night, but as beautiful as a steed racing through the wild such is ones space in a time of need. The explosion of a thousand fireworks at once, illuminating the night sky with hope, happiness, joy, and affection. Without the radiance of some very important people that deep, black, inescapable tomb would have swallowed my humanity. For them I am thankful. For him the heart aches for the simple words, “I love you sis.”