Dear Brandon,

I wonder...what does God allow you to see? I know there are no worries there, but are you praying for me? Do you see me crying in your room, do you hear me asking why I couldn't have gone, too? Can you feel the pangs of my guilt when I look at all I have, but can think of nothing except what's missing? Brandon, I don't know who I am, I'm so lost. You thought I was the glue, but I'm not, I don't think I can keep even one thing together without you.

On the surface, it looks ok. Do you see past the surface? I hope not. We are all cracks and facades and emotions teetering on the brink of destruction. We are faces in public, but faceless, without an identity, in private because half of our identity is gone. We are an ever so slight breeze away from being blown over the edge for good. I am scared.

Have you been by your room? Probably not, I guess. I keep the heat on in our bathroom and your door open, so it takes the chill off. I cannot bear to have your room cold, I come undone. Your dad is going to freak at the power bill, I think, but I don't care...your room will not be like a morgue. I said that because I know you'll get the irony in it. You'll see the humor. Such a wise, funny soul. I sure miss your laugh. I want to call you in from your room to look at a funny commercial. Come ask me to watch something on You Tube, I promise to not hate You Tube, anymore.

Were you there when I lit the candle for you, on the 8th? Did you hear the putz say MY name instead of yours? I'm not sure if you would've laughed or been ticked off. I would've been mad, then you'd have been really mad, then I'd have said, "It's ok, Brandon, be gracious, he has also lost a child." I did tell them that it wasn't nice because it really wasn't, but I was gracious about it. It's further proof that I don't belong with those people. You know, the people who've lost a child. This is not the way it's supposed to be. Dreading Christmas, worrying about the burden on Ariana, as the only child left, wondering if we ever knew who we were or if we'll ever be ANYTHING, again. How can I be one of those people? Can I join you. Please?

The tree is up. She is full of icicles, just like you would want. The angel is on top, also to your liking. We are thinking of trying to find a new angel, one that lights up. That would be ok, right? I don't think I can get rid of this one, though, because you grew up with her. I'm going to give the light-up star to Freecycle, though, because you never were fond of it. Both of you kids love the angel and I want what you want. I truly don't know how I will manage on Christmas. I'm trying not to think too much about it or I'll run away from it and that wouldn't be fair to your sister. I thought about having Max and Tyler over for tortilla soup (Max has asked a couple of times), but I don't think I can yet. If one of them sits in your chair, I'll have to excuse myself and that wouldn't be very polite. So, what will we do? I don't know. You won't be here to give me any presents and the only present I want is you. Could you put in a word with God tonight, tell him your mom really needs some help or she may not make it? I'd appreciate it. I love you and miss you so very much, Brando! I hope to see you in my dreams soon.

Love, Mom-O

p.s. better put in a word for your stubborn grandpa, too...although I bet you already have, you're a good kid! Oh and say hi to Paul Walker for me, would ya :))