Dear Andrew
I’m sitting in my youngest daughter’s room willing her to sleep. For some reason my girls don’t want to sleep. Ever. Me? That’s all I want to do.
Remember when you and I shared a room? We had that bunk bed dad built. You had a mattress on the floor and I slept on the top. We didn’t seem to sleep either, if I remember correctly. Or rather, I didn’t sleep. Karma and all that.
I remember doing flips over the wall of the bed onto your mattress. I landed a little to hard and got the air knocked right out of me. You were always telling me to go to sleep and I was always playing in my bed. Georgia does that now. She’ll play for hours. I always thought I was getting away with something. Mom and Dad were totally onto me just like I am to her. She’s not fooling anyone.
I think you would’ve been a great uncle. My girls would’ve really loved you. It’s hard trying to explain where you are. Georgia will try to make sense of it. When she tries to talk about it, it comes out very raw yet cute. She’ll say, “Mommy, I’m sorry your brother was killed. Why was he?” Toddlers don’t quite get how to be subtle. I understand though.
I think about the night before you died, a lot. Mom and Dad went out for their anniversary and I babysat. We ordered Pappy’s Pizza (Paid with change. They must’ve loved that!), had a scavenger hunt, watched “Home…
