I haven’t worn mascara since March, 2019. I just couldn’t seem to keep it on without it turning to a streaky mess. I’ve come to the point where I am comfortable without it now.

Grief often feels like when you’re driving down a road you’ve never been down before. Except there aren’t many signs which tell you which way to go.                                        

I think about my brother every day. All day. I just have so many questions to ask. Not ask him but someone, or something. I guess the hardest question would be why? Why did this happen? I’ll never ever get an answer to that question. Nobody ever does. Maybe as days go by you just start to wonder less.

I miss you, Michael. We all do.