Having a hard time...

I'm writing this while I sit here with tears in my eyes...

I spent 45 minutes on the phone with my brother Jon's best friend Phil. I used to want to hunt him down and beat his ass... not kill him, just maim him a little... but I'm over that now. I had looked him up to talk to him. I didn't know if he even knew that Jon had passed. I found his mom's phone number, didn't know if he was still living there but I took the chance and called it yesterday, left a message on the answering machine. Tonight I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize, but yet I answer it anyway.... and it's Phil.

He was the only other person who shared as strong of a bond with Jon as I did. The pain between our two voices talking about him was so thick it couldn't be cut with a knife. Come to find out that he still has some cassette tapes left of things that him and my brother recorded. I said I would love to hear them, so we set up a tentative time to get together this Saturday.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous to go over to his place. I'm not sure what to expect, but if it's decorated anything like my brothers apartments were, I'll probably shed a few tears.

I miss my brother so much. Every time I pick up his guitar to learn some more it stings. Every time I play it, I always stop for a minute or two and just run my hand along the guitar, trace the outline of his drawings and bask in the scent of the wood of the guitar and the leftover patchouli oil on his guitar strap.

I hate to sound needy, I feel like I've sounded like this a lot lately, I could just really use some friend support tonight, because when things like this happen and memories come up in my mind, it really makes me want to do something so I can see/touch/hug my brother again, tell him how much I love him and how much I've missed him, and listen to him play guitar for me again. And each time I get like this, it seems like a better and better choice.