I write letters to my dead brother. Brandon. I was 19 when he died of a heart attack. That was just last year. How old was he? 29. Two weeks later was the 30th birthday he never made it to. It is one of the worst things I have ever had to go through. Every day I wake up hearing my mother say, "Leslie, Brandon is dead." I am reminded over and over again that one day I will have lived longer than I knew my own brother. He did not just leave me, but my two other brothers, my mother, his wife, and two kids. My brother left all his loved ones. We are what he left behind. He lives in all of us.

That saying, "you don't think it can happen to you until it does," is the truth. So I am going to "Vampire Diaries" my way through life and let my pen be the eyes of the dead. I do not know for sure if my brother is watching me, but it is nice knowing that maybe he does get my letters, or maybe he can see me. No, I do not write a letter and try to send it to heaven. Instead, I write in a journal. I can keep all the letters in one place and maybe he is there still reading over my shoulder, the way he did when he was alive. Here are some reasons why I will continue to write him.

1. He always encouraged my writing.

My number one fan is gone. Instead of giving up on a dream I have had for arguably all my life, I continue to honor my brother. I do this by still allowing him to inspire, coach, and read my work. One day I woke up and understood that my brother would want me to write. The deceased would not want us to give up on our passions even if we want to. My brother would call me lazy and just using him for a way out if I ever gave up. I thought of the first time I ever heard him say he was proud of me. I was six years old and carried around a notebook filled with Kim and Jim and the club they shared. He would read my stories to his friends. His smile would encourage me further. Now when I write I can see his smile.

2. He will never miss the big moments in life.

I understand that my father is going to be the one to walk me down the isle, but I have always been closer to my brother and wanted it to be him. We want the people we love to be there for this special day. Instead, I am just going to have to describe to him these moments he is missing. I am going to have to explain his son and daughter's big life moments. He was there to see me graduate from high school, but their own father will not be in the overcrowded audience of faces. I am grateful for the moments we did share. Now I am even grateful for the bad, but I will not let my big brother miss anything that happens in my life. I also use it to go over the memories I never want to forget. The memories I want my kids to know one day about their uncle.

3. He is comforting me through my own grief.

I was in denial for a very long time. After the funeral, I could not cry, think, or move. I did not even know if I was grieving right. It is a weird thing. Grief. One moment it felt like he was on a vacation and he was going to come back. He was just living out his life while I started to understand where I was going with mine. Then one day I wanted to tell him something so bad. The realization that it was not possible to just call, or text my own brother soon made it clear it was not just a vacation. I was hit all at once. The waves of thought were crashing in the sea of my mind and all denial was washed away. Then came the flood of tears. This flood created the lake of Brandon. It rains often and the lake stays filled.

4. He lives through me.

I am not going to lie, it took nearly a year to be able to want to write again, but the moment I did was to tell him everything. I now can write essays, stories, letters, whatever I want. Who do I dedicate it to? My big brother. Never forget the people who care for you and raise up your passions. I was lucky enough to grow up with my brother, even luckier that he is now in my heart.

I would just like to say that this was not a cure for the pain I feel every day. I wear his loss around my shoulders the way I carry my backpack to school. I can never hear his voice again or hug him. What can I do? Well, what I choose to do is to allow the emotion to lead my pen. It helps and I can tell him I love him and I can still see his smile.