My brother is gone. Typing that out hurts my heart. My brother was everything to me. He made me laugh. He made me angry. He made me think. He made me happy. When I first started hiking a few years ago, he was my hiking buddy. He was always up for a good hike. We’d listen to Pursuit of Happiness and trudge through a particular difficult trail. Sweat would pour down our necks, and we’d be sore the next day if it was a tough hike. But, we loved it. We loved each other and I associate so many hiking memories with memories of him
The last three weeks have been unreal. To think that I will never again see my brother’s face, or have him tell me some story (he was an awesome storyteller), seems like some cruel joke. To be honest, I don’t know how people go through this. I went to my favorite hike a few days ago, and as I climbed the steps up the mountain, images of my brother flooded my mind and I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry for what I have lost, but also for what he lost. He was only 30 years old. He had a whole life ahead of him. He had so many hopes and dreams, and they will never be fulfilled.
At one of the resting spots on my hiking trail, were some benches. I had never noticed that they had quotes on them, but on that day I did. And, they brought me such a serenity and hope that my brother is out there somewhere in nature and is watching me and is hiking that mountain with me.