It's been raining since Friday.
Sean's birthday was Saturday.
Today, Sunday, I fly home.
Tornado watches and weather warnings are flooding the news.
As we drove to the airport, the rain fell heavier than we've ever seen. Lightning flashes blinded us, and there were points when I had simply accepted doom.
No pressure, but now I really have to outlive my parents. If something happens now, I fear for the worst.
I just can't take the sound of my parents crying on the phone. Trying to reason with themselves as to why something like this could have happened. He was doing so well.
I tried to hold it together for Sean's birthday but by the time night rolled around, I couldn't sleep. When I tried, I was stabbed in the chest with the thought of how he's never coming back. It feels so selfish to keep writing "I", but I can't speak for anyone else but myself.
Sitting in this damn airport has only made the pain worse so far. At this point though, I'm almost surprised I made it through the night. Sean kept telling me to relax and try to breathe. If it weren't for the rest of my family, I would have stopped right when I heard the news.
We're too young for this. Too young to fully understand the consequences of our actions, but too old to still be involved in this sort of behavior.
His friends keep trying to talk to me. To find out details on the services, but they're the last people I care about right now. Blood is thicker than water.
This grieving literally hurts my heart.
Sean tries to understand but he's still stuck at "You're brother just died." His dad said at church they would pray. And everyone else says, "I'm so sorry."
I am too. I am so sorry that I never called him back after my phone died. I'm so sorry that I never said, "I love you." and "Goodbye."
I'm so sorry that everyone thinks that saying sorry might do something somewhere in my heart and make things better.
And lastly,
I'm so sorry that those dreams you dreamed, will never be achieved.
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