Sad Eyes

Today I woke up on the couch after a fun, relaxing, easy going Friday night. My phone laid beside me lifeless, not even able to turn on. I plugged it in, ran downstairs, and harassed my roommate about what's for breakfast. After convincing him to get up and lets get biscuits and gravy (preferably somewhere that serves sweet tea), I took my time preparing for the day as easy as it came. Once my phone got a little juice to it, I turned it on, only to receive the types of messages you don't want to receive from the family you adore 3,000 miles away. One voicemail. One text message. "Did you get my voicemail? Call me as soon as you can". For  y'all who know me best, I never listen to my voicemail. This sounded like I should check it to maybe get prepared for the worst. Sobbing. "It's not Ethan." I didn't hear much after that.

I can't help but hate the fact that I haven't seen him in the past couple years. I use to look to this boy as if he was my parents' son. He came around for holidays, my parents thought the world of him. He thought the world of my sister. I would always get so pumped when he was on his way over. He treated me like a little sister when he was around. He would tell me that I could date a certain boy, or that I should stay away from certain boys. Really wish I would've listened to him on more than one occasion...

My heart aches and my eyes are as heavy as my heart and sad. I hurt for his parents, I hurt for his little sister who is only a year younger than me. For a second tonight on my late night bike ride I thought of her and what it would be like to be in her shoes. I collapsed even thinking of it. Her only sibling, physically gone forever. I hurt for everyone who's lives he's touched. I hurt everytime I see someone's facebook response who says "He was such a great guy" I'm so sick of seeing "great guy" Michael was so much more than that. I always looked up to him the way I'm sure his little sister looks to him. The way you can look past someone's problems and flaws and see their heart and love bursting out of them. The fact that I, or anyone else, could've probably still called him, even if it's been years since I've last seen him, and ask him to do a favor, and he would be there. No questions asked.

I hate that he'll never see 30. I hate that I'll never look twice when I see a truck like his to see if it's him. I hate that he never moved to Raleigh. He never got to where he wanted to be.

I hurt most of all for my sister. He worshipped my sister. They grew their different ways after highschool, but I know she always holds a special place in his heart. I want to be home to hug my sister. The phone just isn't the same. I want to sit on the couch with her and rub her scalp and just give her the company and shoulder to lean on. Physically. We would probably spend the day laughing at memories of Michael.

It doesn't seem real. Since I'm not there I can't feel the heartache next to me. I can't see the tears, I don't hear everyone talking about it. I don't feel as though it's true. It can't be, can it? We can't ignore it anymore. Please don't drink and drive. It's stupid. You can not only kill people, but rip the hearts out of everyone who loves you. It's not worth it. Please call me if you need cab money. I don't have a lot of money but I'll find it for you if it means saving your life, and not breaking my heart. I use to get so irritated when my mom, dad, or sister would find out I had a drink and would drive home. Now I know why. It 'effing sucks to know it could've been so easily prevented.

Rest in peace, Michael. I love you and I still don't really believe it's true. Maybe once my eyes dry I'll see the truth.