i've officially been living in grandma's house for the past 24 days and to be honest, my heart is so full. i feel so very lucky to be able to wake up each morning and eat breakfast with my grandparents. i know that someday when they're gone i will be so thankful for this time that i get to share with them. in fact, the mornings are my favorite part of the day because of the simplicity they bring. but this morning was different. this morning, we talked about you.

this morning, abuelita and i sat at the kitchen table for nearly two hours and talked about you. we shared stories of you as a child, of the times you would harass me, and of everything in between. personally, my favorite memory to share of you is of middle school big event day. when i, my innocent self, was walking to class only to be harassed by the closest thing to big brothers i had. to say i was mortified would be an understatement. but now, looking back, i would give anything in the entire universe to hear you scream my full name at the top of your lungs in the hallway, while being smushed between you and adrian. as i was sitting at the kitchen table listening to abuelita tell me about you as a baby i could not help but think about how lucky i was to have you. however, while we chatted about you i also found myself wallowing in the feelings of guilt, sadness, and anger that i thought i had left behind long ago.

when someone dies, everyone tells you that the pain gets better with time. the truth is, that i would personally like to deck every single person that has ever told me that in the face because it doesn't. the pain does not get better with time, in fact it just gets worse. the only thing that gets better is your ability to cope with your new reality. and to be honest, i am doing a pretty shit job at coping with this new reality. being in abuelita's house means that wherever i turn i see you. whether it be you in a photo, your baby clothes in the drawer i opened, or your name stickered inside the cabinet i randomly opened. to be quite honest, i am so far beyond angry, i have been this entire time, and i don't really think that i can keep pretending I'm not. but, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself.

I'm angry at myself for never telling you that i loved you too. I'm angry at myself for getting annoyed at you when you would throw balls at me when i was having a long day. I'm angry at myself for choosing everything in the world over you when all you wanted to do was take me to lunch. the thing is that i know how much you loved me, because you told me every chance you got. but even when you weren't telling me you were showing me. and dear god, i loved you too. i still do. i love you so very much and i miss you more than i ever thought i would but i was absolute shit at showing you, let alone telling you. I'm angry at myself because when i had you i was embarrassed of you. and now, you're gone and i would give anything in the world to just tell you i love you. hell, i would even be okay with being pelted with balls every day for the rest of my life as long as it meant you were still here.

but most of all, I'm sorry. you were always there when i needed you to be, and even when i didn't and would tell you that you weren't my brother and that i could take care of myself, you were there. well news flash, i can't take care of myself. i am wallowing. i never had a big brother. i always thought i didn't need one, let alone want one. but you, you were my big brother. you were my big brother and i need my big brother.

i hope you know how much I've always loved you.

and alberto?

i'm sorry i wasn't there when you needed me.