Dear Craig,

We have not met before, but you have altered my life in a way I will never be able to describe. I was happy before you. I was on top of the world, 1200 miles away from home doing great things in college before you. I was helping my brother ask a girl to his first prom before you, and two days later I was on a plane back home to Florida because of you. Maybe you will never meet me, but your name will be engraved in my brain for as long as I live. I wish I could say it was for something great, but unfortunately it is not. I will be forced to remember you because you are my brother's killer.

You do not know me, but within the next few weeks you may become familiar with my face, or even the sound of my voice. The sobs you hear in the back of the courtroom, those will probably be mine. My face is almost identical to my little brother's--a lot of people actually mistook us for twins growing up. It was my little brother you took from me, by the way, although I could hardly call him little. We were one year, two months, and two days apart- close enough that I called him my "twinnie" on Snapchat, close enough that we grew up nearly inseparable (however, judging by our constant bickering I am sure our family wished we would have separated a little more), close enough to really consider him my other half as opposed to just a sibling.

You ruined my life April 3, 2016. This was the night you decided to get behind the wheel drunk. I am not sure where you were headed or why you thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel that night, but I know where my brother was headed. He was headed home from his new job that he was so excited to have. He was on a red moped, he loved driving that thing around our little town. You hit him while you were texting I think, or at least that is what I have heard. It is a deadly combination when you mix alcohol, texting, and driving, and it usually is not the drunk one that it is deadly for. But you already know this. You are sitting in jail for this. You got behind the wheel while you were drunk, and my brother flew onto your windshield and you kept driving until he flew off onto the median. I wish that would have stopped you from driving any longer, but it did not. You left my brother there, where he died. I was told he did not feel any pain, but I know it was just to make me feel better. I saw the road rash on his body, I saw the gash on his head, he was in pain and you did this, and I cannot forget.

I cannot forget bringing my brother's clothes to the funeral home. A floral shirt, brand new and his favorite, a pair of khakis, and some Nike socks. My mom had me hold them. I clinched onto those clothes, holding them tighter and tighter like that might keep me from breaking into pieces, or it might magically make it all fake, but it did not. We got to the funeral home and I would not let them go as I sobbed and saw my brother's naked body lying on a table, covered by only a thin white blanket. He was cold and lifeless, it almost did not look like him. My family was taking turns crying over him at that moment, and I was crying into his clothes, and at some point him when I was finally convinced to give them up, I cried over him. His funeral was worse. I wrote a poem for it, and people said it was beautiful but it did not really do my brother justice. I could not even read it. I could not contain myself. I looked over my brother at the viewing, I was screaming "That's my little brother," and sobbing into my best friend's shoulder. I think that made his friends cry a little bit more, there were a lot of them at the funeral.

I saw a picture of your mugshot before boarding my plane back home to get to my brother's funeral. I tried so hard not to break down as I sat by the gate, not to scream, not to curse your name in front of everyone there. My father was pouring out the details of how my brother died, and I just could not help but to search your face after I received a name. I wish I never saw that picture, I wish I never had to know about you. You looked cold, you looked mean, you did not look remorseful. You looked like the only life you cared that you ruined was your own, and that haunts me.

That picture I saw of you haunts me every night. There has not been one night that it has not appeared in my dreams (nightmares, really) reminding me of what you took. The event plays over and over in my head as I sleep, and each day when I wake up I think to myself that it was just a dream, except it is not just a dream. Because of you and your poor decision making skills, each day I wake up and have to realize that my brother is dead, and that it is not just a bad dream I can wake up from. Most nights I try to stay awake so I can avoid you, but it never works because I will fall asleep eventually with the same nightmares to come. I just sleep in later, and I guess that makes the days more bearable. Most days it takes me at least an hour to get out of bed, so the tears stop streaming down my face and I can look more or less presentable to my family. Some days I do not get out of bed at all if I can help it. My family thinks I am lazy, but I just do not have the motivation anymore.

My dreams are not the worst thing about this either. The thing about grief is that sometimes it just creeps up on you. You should know that there are times when it cripples me. I can be completely fine one minute, and the next I might be curled in a ball sobbing while my boyfriend tries to figure out what is wrong with me. Sometimes it takes my ability to talk away from me, and I just sit there with a blank stare wondering when it is going to end. When I am alone in my car I find myself screaming for my brother to come back to me. You are the reason why I am like this.

It has been two months and nine days since you took my brother away from me. Two months and nine days, and I still have questions for you. Why were you so willing to get behind the wheel drunk after already having one DUI? Why did you keep driving after you hit my brother? Was all of the pain and suffering you caused worth it to you? Because it would never be worth a life to me. You made the decision to get behind the wheel while you were drunk and disregarded the lives of others. You made the decision to get behind that wheel when you knew you were not fit to drive, and for that, I do not know if you can ever be forgiven.

Truly,

Katherine Eason