Dear Sammy

Did you know, Sammy?

Did you really know?

I don’t think you did. And most of that was my fault. I never was any damn good at all that emotional shit. You knew that. You respected it. Even though it probably killed you, never knowing what I was thinking. What I was feeling. You left me to my thoughts, most of the time. You knew what I needed. Because that’s what you were best at, Sam.

Understanding me.

I guess you got to be that way when we were little. We were always together. Always looking out for each other. And you were always watching. Always studying me. It was like you were seeing into me, not just looking at the surface, at the snot nosed, stubborn ass little kid everyone else saw. Or the obedient, willing little soldier that dad over-looked. No, Sammy. You saw me.

And you always wanted me around. I still can't figure that out. After all the shit I put you through. All the jokes. All the pranks. Everything I did to remind you that you were the little brother. Through all that, you were there. And you were still my brother.

You stood up for me. When everyone said I was good for nothing, you told them they were damn wrong. When I didn't come home, that day in summer when I was fourteen, you were the one that put up those posters all over that town in Wyoming that we were staying in.

And all those times I died. Or nearly died. You stood right there in the doorway of Hell and pulled my sorry ass back from the flames. You were always saving me. It's why I'm still here.

Because you always cared.

And I still just brushed it off. I even told you to give up. I couldn't bring myself to just say thank you.

Until now.

And now, now it's too damn late, isn't it, Sammy?

It's too late for me to tell you that I always looked up to you, little brother. I always admired you for being so smart. For knowing all the things that I knew nothing about.

It's too late for me to tell you that I was always so proud of you. For doing so well in school. For making it into Stanford. For saving the world.

It's too late for me to tell you that I love you, little brother. You're like another part of me. You were more than just my brother. You were my best friend. We held each other together.

And now that you're gone, Sam, I wish I would've told you. I wish I would've pulled the stick out of my own ass and told you all these things. I wish I would've been a better brother that way.

But wishes don't mean shit, do they?

All I can do is hope that you somehow, someway you did know.

But I don't think you did.

But look at me. Gabbing on like some old biddy. All I really wanted to say, Sam, is that...

I love ya, little brother.