From a letter to Katherine

It's been two years to the day since I was in that hospital on the south side of Corpus Christi -- the day my brother's heart stopped beating.

In these two years I've made new friends, created new inside jokes and even had my heart broken. I graduated college, started my career and am already looking to see where my words will carry me next.

Time kept going and I did too, even when I didn't think I could.

Oddly enough I've had some of the greatest days and nights in these last two years -- nights where all I can remember is aching from laughter. I owe that to the people around me. Maybe they're not in this state or even in this country, but they continue to piece me back together every day.

You know who you are, and you know I love you.

I will spend the rest of my life searching for moments full of Aaron.
I think I will spend the rest of my days recreating conversations we had by myself.
I'm certain I will cry every time I hear "Baby, I love your way" or if I stare at my tattoos too long.
I will absolutely think of him every time I reach a new point in my life.
And every so often when I'm on a long drive home, I will get the urge to call him like I used to.

But I'll always keep moving forward.

 "If I never see you again
I will always carry you
inside
outside

on the fingertips
and at brain edges

and in centers
centers 
of what I am of 
what remains."