Dear Joey

Dear Joey,
I miss you.
There are so many things that make me think of you.
Frozen egg rolls from the grocery store, Chinese food from any Chinese restaurant, taking out the trash, songs I hear (Metallica and Iron Maiden...and a lot of other ones too).
I have a million and one memories of you. From the time we were tot's at grandma's, to when we were pre-teens in Hagerman and teenagers in Artesia. I remember laughing and joking and inside jokes. Horrible fights, one that included flying plastic ashtrays. Arguments and fights that drove mom and dad up the wall. I remember going to the movies, the mall and Hastings. I remember cruising around with music blasted. I remember deep conversations and one word conversations. I remember growing up with you.
I remember irritating you when I wanted you to rub my feetsies while we watched movies, beeeggging you too complete with a pouty lip. And you rolled your eyes and sighed. Then you smirked and you watched a movie and rubbed my feet. Every time. 
I remember you begging ME complete with your own pouty face for a ride from point a to point be, or to clean your room, or to play Dungeons and Dragons, or watch Pokemon or some sort of anime. 
My whole life you were my baby brother. We were inseparable when we were little.
I remember going to your highschool graduation, only a year and a few months ago. I was sooooo proud of you. We were ALL soooooo proud of you. You wanted to quit. But you didn't. You followed through. You did it! You GRADUATED! I have your graduation gown now. 
I remember when you "ran away" to Amarillo. You called me a week later after sleeping in the park and getting jumped. You assured me you could get me to where you were and get me back. I got to Amarillo and drove in circles and drove in circles. You had me so lost!! Finally we met up a gas station. You were dirty and stinky and bruised. But I smiled and I jumped on you and you smiled and caught me. Then you had me all over the place and turned around when we were trying to leave. For a genius, your navigation skills were questionable. Then I bought you tacos. We finally escaped Amarillo and got back to Happy convention. I got you a towel and you went to clean up and then you showed me the blister on the bottom of your foot that was the size of the entire ball of your foot! Because you walked halfway to Amarillo. You silly goose. 
I can hear your laugh in my head. I remember your bone crushing bear hugs.
My heart is broken that you are dead. It's so weird to have a dead brother. It's so weird to know I outlived my brother at the age of only 22. 
Even with my broken heart, I can't help but smile when I think about the peace you must be experiencing. The understanding you have of things that none of us can even comprehend. The love that surrounds you. Your relief of every burden.
I know you were having a hard time growing up. Adulthood scared you. I know you had a lot of anxieties and insecurities about life, even though you tried to cover them with your macho persona. You are free from all of those worries. How amazing you must feel! To have no regrets, no worries, no disappointments, no pain or suffering of any sort. You don't have to deal with the overwhelming emotions of growing up. You don't have deal with chemical imbalances. I am so happy for your soul, Baby Brother. 
I want to live my life better. I want to serve our God. I want to live my life, so that when I die, I will have the same freedom that you do. I want my heart to be right and I want my life to be right. I want our souls to re-unite and I want to know our God the way you now know our God. Your death is not in vain. I am not made bitter because of it, but am stirred to draw closer to the Father. 
I am having a little trouble finding my closure in your death, for the human nature part of me. The spiritual part of me has no doubt that you are so much better off than you've ever been in your life. 
I love you and I am so so so glad God loaned you to our family for 20 years. I would have loved to have many more years than that with you, but God calls on the soul in his time, not ours.
Love always,
Sissy Lala