My uncle died in a motorcycle accident in August. His birthday is Saturday.
He was the uncle that made me feel loved the most. He'd always make me laugh, no matter what. Call me M&M. Sneak me candy when the younger kids weren't looking. When he died, I could not fathom it. I still can't. I didn't cry. I didn't say a word. I somehow found myself laying on a blanket in my backyard, staring up at the blue sky, and just laid there until I fell asleep. The rest of my family left to go to my aunt's house, but I just stayed there. Trying to take everything in, catastrophe in the middle of a gorgeous day. And why does God allow this to happen to me?
But you know, that was only the beginning.
Ever since then, I've been shaken awake by horror that I had never known.
And I think that's partly why I still can't grasp the fact that my uncle is dead. It's because that only a few weeks after that, it was Justin.
I hate the fact that one overshadowed the other. Maybe it's because I didn't want to admit either to myself, but it was harder to escape Justin. Because he's everywhere, even today.
Before this year, I never had anyone close to me die.
And this year has been too much to take in.
It's been too much for me.
I don't want to be anywhere near here.