I am sorry for your loss.

I am sorry Clinton is not here with you. I am sorry for every nightmare, every chill that’s run your spine, I’m sorry for every inaction, I’m sorry there’s been no change. I’m sorry you needed to leave. I’m sorry you are weighted with so much pain.

It’s not right. And it is not fair. It isn’t deserved.

I am sorry Clinton was treated so recklessly. I’m sorry for the way Clinton died. I’m sorry if he felt alone in those moments. I’m sorry for every nasty word ever uttered about him in your face or behind your back.

I cannot understand what that must feel like to lose my brother to such brutality. I imagine I’d feel much of the way you do. Your promise is very noble. I wonder what Clinton thinks about his sister feeling as you do. I wonder if he’d want a little more for you.

I am a fucking stranger, but I do care. I am typing this with one eye open because my head is so unclear. Please forgive me if I stumble in my wording.

I don’t know your pain, but I do know loss. I know violent loss, senseless loss, loss of those far too young.

So I need to say I do get that part of this picture. It breaks my heart to read your words. Not because you’re wrong. But because I know you’re right. It makes me feel very sick.

How can I support you? Can I be comforting in anyway?

I want to be supportive and loving and helpful. But I really don’t know what to say.

In the meantime, I’ll pray that you have more times each day where you remember Clinton, his smile, his laugh, his heart and strength— I’ll pray that those memories don’t make you feel as though you’re falling apart. I’ll pray that they bring you peace, a laugh and solid-as-an-oak-tree type pride. I’ll pray that he finds comfort as he stands by your side.

Our loved ones never leave us.

Time is a teacher, not a healer.

Take care of you.

H.