Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I want you to know that it wasn’t because of you. I know you’ve blamed yourself for so many years, but none of this has ever been about you.
I want to explain how I feel, but I’m not you. I don’t have a way with words like you. I never lit up a room like you did. Instead, I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Looking at everyone else happy and excited for life. But for me, it was the opposite.
I found life hard, Bonnie. Every day, when I took a breath, I felt like I was breathing in tar. Every step I took was like walking in quicksand. I had to keep moving or I would be pulled under.
I fought it. But the truth is, I wanted to sink. I wanted to close my eyes and disappear and stop the fight. The fight to want to live, when for as long as I could remember, all I’ve wanted is to let go.
When you got sick, it only made me realize the truth—that I just wanted to go. I wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. Because, Bonnie, what is a world if you aren’t in it? And if you got your heart, if someone saved your life by giving you what they could no longer use, then know that I’m happy. You might be angry at me. In fact, I know you are. You’re my twin. I feel what you feel. But I can’t do it anymore. Even as I sit here now, knowing I have only minutes left, I want to go. I’ve lost the fight to be here anymore.
And I refuse to say goodbye to you, Bonnie. I want to leave it this way. With me at our favorite place, knowing that I’ll see you again. After you’ve lived for us both. Lived a life I never could.
Some of us just aren’t meant for this world, Bonnie. And I’m one of them. I know you’ll mourn me, and if you survive, I’ll miss you every day until I see you again.
Because I will see you again, Bonnie. Look up, and I’ll always be there with you.
But I have to go now.
Keep strong, sis. Live a life that you love. And when it’s your time, I’ll be the one to come get you. You know I will.
I love you, Bonn.
Easton.
Wracking sobs tore at my chest, teardrops falling to the letter and smudging the writing. I quickly brushed it with my hand, needing to save every part of this letter. I pulled it closer to my chest, and I was sure, in that minute, that I felt Easton in my heart. Felt him smiling at me, trying to comfort me. I felt him smile at me. Smiling because, while he didn’t know it, he’d become my miracle. He’d taken himself from this world and, unknowingly, had kept me in it.
I held his letter close to my chest until I had no tears left to cry. When my mama and papa came to get me for the funeral, as they wheeled me from the hospital, I kept his letter in my pocket. Close to me. I needed his strength to help me get through today.
The next hour was a blur. Being pushed into a car. Us following the car that held my brother’s casket. Lilies spelling out his name in white. When we arrived at the church, my eyes watched the casket as it was pulled from the car. Papa and my uncles surrounded it. And then I saw one person I hadn’t seen in days upon days.
Even though I was numb, my heart managed to skip a beat when I caught sight of Cromwell. Cromwell, dressed in a black suit and black tie, his messy hair jet black in the sun. I tried to pull my eyes away from him, but I found that I couldn’t. He walked forward and shook my papa’s hand. I frowned, wondering where he was going. Then he took one point of the casket, lifting my brother onto his shoulders, taking the burden Easton couldn’t carry onto him.
A hand slipped into mine as they started carrying Easton into the church. My mama pushed me behind the procession. I saw people from college in the pews. Bryce, Matt, Sara, Kacey. But I couldn’t manage to acknowledge them. I was too busy staring at Cromwell. He walked with such purpose that it broke my heart.
Because I’d pushed him away.
Kept him from me when all he wanted to do was show me how much he loved me.
Loved Easton.
As the service started, I stared blankly at the altar, at the cross hanging on the wall. The pastor spoke, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I stared at the casket and replayed Easton’s letter in my head. But I did listen when the pastor said, “And now, we have some music.” I had no idea what was happening, but then Cromwell got up from his seat on the opposite side of the church.