Yeah, that's pretty creepy... I'm having a relapse from my therapy and my grief councilor said it's normal. She told me to calm down, but I can't. Let us hope this poem I'm going to write helps me. Here I go again.
Taken.
When we were small, you were mine.
When Mommy and Daddy were being bad,
You hugged me and said we would be fine.
I grew up in your shadow, but I didn't mind.
I was me and you were you, like it should be.
You kept bad things away, I was naively blind.
As we got older, you got friends besides me.
I didn't mind. You always made time for your sister.
You were my light when Daddy died and Mommy left.
You held my hand and stopped all of the bullies.
Sometimes you brought me along to the mall.
I remember you spilled your drink on me at the movies.
I almost cried because I thought you were mad, but no.
We laughed all the way home, and you gave me a hug.
You got older and I stayed myself. You moved north, away.
I saw you in the summer and we were happy almost always.
When Uncle got angry and tried to hit me, you were there.
You stopped him and made him nice to me, even when I was bad.
When you were gone, I was lonely because you did not hug me.
Two years were gone and I did not see your face. I got a boyfriend.
When I called and told you, you were my protective big brother.
"I have to meet this boy," you joked, but I knew you really meant it.
One date was really fun, on a Friday, actually, a great happy day.
Then I came home and "Your brother's dead" hit my ears.
My boyfriend held me when I cried for you, as I prayed they were lies.
I hoped it was all a sick joke and you would call any moment.
I called your cell phone, and I got the answering machine, so cold.
I will always get it, for the rest of my life, I will get "not available."
Damn th car that you were driving, and damn the stupid tire.
Damn the day I lost my hero, damn the road that killed you.
And damn the god that let you be taken.
`~` In memory of Bobby Lee 1988-2006`~`
Did that help any? No. Will it ever help? No, not really.
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