Dear Pockey,

Hi, it’s been 12 years since you were taken away from us and I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Sunday morning and I woke up and walked into the kitchen. The back door was open, but the screen was closed and I saw dad standing outside, staring up at the sky with his hands in his pockets. When he saw me, he told me that he needed to talk to me. I walked out onto the patio and he told me that we lost you.

What happened next is blurry. I remember running inside and climbing into my bed as tsunamis poured from my eyes. Callie crawled in and came to sit by my feet. All I could see were my tears and I remember telling her that you died, but she didn’t understand because she was only three. I don’t know where mom was. I don’t even remember seeing her until that night.

Grandma came over that afternoon and I paced the yard as she sat on the bench by the front door. She got me munchkins. Maybe she thought they would make me feel better, but they didn’t. All I could do was wander around in a daze and attempt to wrap my head around the idea that I would never see you again. I was 7 years old.

They say that there is a one defining moment in your life where everything suddenly changes. When I look back, losing you is my defining moment. Grandma was really sad, so we moved that summer and she lived with us. I left my school, my friends and the only home I really knew. I was angry for a long time because I was in a new place, I didn’t like it and you weren't there. Nothing made sense.

Mom had Meg that winter. She resembles me so much, it’s scary. Her eyes are hazel -- not blue like mine, but her face is covered in freckles. Her laugh is as infectious as mine and she has a heart of gold. I wish you could meet her. I think she would adore you as much as I did.

She was really sick when she was born. Mom tells us all the time that you saved her and she is a miracle baby. I think mom really believes that a part of you is in Meg. I’m not really sure what I believe.

Sometimes I wonder if Callie thinks about you or misses you as much as I do. We don’t talk about a lot of things. She’s always had a weird way of showing any type of emotion. She was so little when you died and I don’t know what’s worse — the fact that she didn’t really get a chance to know you or the fact that I did know you and now all I have left are l these memories and it hurts. The flashbacks hurt. The pictures hurt. The stories hurt.

Grandma talks about you all the time. I know she really misses you. It’s hard to listen to her tell me things you used to say or do. I try so hard to be strong, but I can’t talk about you without my voice cracking and I can’t imagine you doing something without my eyes filling up with tears. There’s days I wish I could sit at your grave and tell you about my day but I don’t know where it is. Mom and dad didn’t let me go to your funeral. They didn’t think I could handle it and I can understand that, but sometimes I just get so angry because I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you and I was so close to you. They should’ve just let me go. I’m going to be 20 in six months and I’m still too scared to ask anyone where it is, so I can see you because I know I won’t be able to get the sentence out without breaking down.

I often wonder what it would be like if you were still here. I wonder if we would still be as close as we were when I was little. It makes me sad when I think about all that you’ve missed. There are so many Thanksgivings, Christmas' and birthday's, that I wish you could’ve been to. I wish I got a picture with you before prom. I wish you could’ve seen me walk at graduation. You would’ve loved seeing Cal dance and I know you’d be so happy watching Meg blossom into a little person.

I go to Monmouth University, just like you did. I wish you could come have lunch with me some days. I wish you could be at my wedding and dance with me. I wish you could be there when I have my own kids.

I don’t get to laugh with you or listen to you tell stories. I miss hearing your voice and watching you make funny faces that always made mom laugh. I can’t go to you for help when I need it or vent to you when I'm trying to figure something out. I have so many questions and there are so many days that I just wish I could see you one last time. I wish I could give you a hug and tell you how much you've always meant to me but as hard as it is to not have you physically here, I know you’re watching over me and I hope I’m making you proud.

I miss you every day and you are forever in my heart. I know I’ll see you again one day. Until then, please keep being my angel.

Love always,

Brianna