We buried your birthday. Shoveled sand over the ashes that once were a human being. No way back, never. You are gone, more than a year now. Since that day that I cannot forget, the day that burns in my head with an all-melting degree, my thoughts get smashed again. Every day, over and over again. Großer kleiner Bruder. I miss you. Indeed, since life ended, since our worlds came to an end, I might be studying harder, partying, living harder. But nothing on earth is worth the price. You were most important. You still are and will always be. Nothing on earth is worth that price. What currency is death? Come back, please, I pray, prayed if I believed in god. I don’t. You. Don’t. Live. Anymore.
Tear out my arms, each and every leg, all my fingers and toes, my head. That won’t hurt. Peanuts. I’d give arms and legs and fingers, my head and heart to be able to see you again. Yoda-Worte. Stinkefüße. Deinen Rat. Dein Lachen. Even if there had never been a thing you did for me, even if you had not cared about who I am I would have loved you. Adored you. Großer kleiner Bruder. Tear those eyes out with that stupid head, the salty tears tear lines down my face, scars that stay. You did not stay. Another day.
A birthday now. Celebrating the big event without its Stargast. You’re absent, but my thoughts accompany you, each and every day. So I go on. I miss school and work; I don’t want to be friendly on a day that ought to be your birthday. It still is, even though we buried it.
But we did not bury you. You are still alive. I will keep you alive. I won’t just go to school today because it’s more important. You are. Important and alive. Weird and loving and caring. I try hard to deny everything. But I cannot deny your smile, your eyes, your voice. Du riechst nach Rauch. Deine Hände rauh, Deine Worte verschwurbelt, wenn Du offizielle Telefonate führst. I remember our very last talk. You knew, I did not even have to explain. Kein offizielles Gespräch, nun wirklich nicht. Essen und Du wusstest wie immer, wie alles geht. Und dann gehst Du selbst. I’d hate you for that, I’d be angry. Aber Dir kann man nichts übel nehmen, kein Auto im Straßengraben, kein geschrottetes Fahrrad, keine Deiner Ausreden. Du grinst das einfach weg, Du Schlitzohr. I am not angry, just so very, very sad. So, could you please help me deny death, bring a portion of Alzheimer’s just now, some long term memory that brings you back to life? That brings you closer again?
Without those legs and arms, I cannot sit straight. I slaver tears today. Your funeral anniversary.