I've been thinking about Justin a lot lately. The other night when I was driving home, the thought popped into my head to call him. I haven't had that thought in a long time. And then I realized that I can't call him. That I can't call him ever again, and I started to cry. It's almost been 2 years, and I still can't believe he is gone. About 2 months before Justin died, he asked me to move in with him, and I told him no. I wonder if he would still be here today if I had said yes. Or if instead, I would have been the one to find him dead instead of my mom. I know that the image of finding my brother dead is one that will haunt my mom for the rest of her life. I've never set foot in the condo after he was found. My mom has been there a few times. A few days after he died, my whole family went over there to clean the place up. I tried to walk in with my older brothers, but I couldn't do it. I could smell it. The smell of death. And i broke down at the door and sat outside and cried. My mom told me that I didn't have to go in. It scares me. And I know that if I ever set foot in there, I would break down and I don't want to do that.

I've talked to people at work about Justin. And I try to be nonchalant about it and shrug it off as if I'm doing okay. but deep down, it kills me to tell people that my brother is dead. I'm not ashamed to tell people how he died. It was a problem he had since high school. It was a problem that couldn't be helped, because a person has to want help in order to get it. It's just hard to say the words out loud, "My brother is dead." It breaks my heart. But i don't talk about the hurt to anyone. I only talk about the memories that make me laugh. I don't tell people how sad I am and how often I cry over losing him. He's supposed to still be here. He's supposed to see me walk down the aisle. He's supposed to dance with me at my wedding. He's supposed to meet all his nieces and nephews. He's supposed to be alive.

I miss him everyday. I'm heartbroken...but I think I hide it well.