On the eve of the observation of my brother’s murder, seventeen years ago, I am writing about closure for my memoir. And I am getting myself all worked up.  I abhor the word but am committed to trying to understand why people are so determined to get me to have it.  And why they are so confused that I don’t agree it exists, and yet I still function in the world.   Argh.  But I am putting this chapter down for now, because I don’t need any more emotion going into the next few days.

I am sad, grief-stricken still and filled with an intense yearning for my big brother.  I miss his laugh, I miss his voice, I miss his teasing, I miss our bond, I miss him loving me.  I miss him and his extraordinary spirit.  It’s not just on June 12th that I feel this way, in fact I feel the same sense of longing as I did years ago, every day.  As I mature, the loss does too.

But as I embrace the bumpy ride of the next few days, I am comforted knowing that I am surrounded with wonderful friends that love and support me, a public that still is consistently kind and compassionate, a loving family, a father who remains to be the most incredible man I know, and a sweet child who holds my hand a little tighter on this day, who is extra sweet to me and makes it his job to make me smile.  I am so fortunate that in my dark hours, I have such warmth to keep me company.

Ron, the world may not have known all your secrets like I do, but they know something about you that I am so proud to be able to share … your courage, your bravery, your heroism.  You always were and always will be my protector, my big brother, my best friend.

Missing you now, loving you always.  xo, Squirt