richey

I didn't have the heart to post this yesterday, but yesterday marked eighteen years, although only nine for me.
I still hope - maybe even assume - every year that this this year will be the one that he decides that enough is enough and it's time to come home. Maybe not home home, but just to say hello, I am alive, carry on, as you were.
It never happens, of course. His family thinks it so unlikely that it will that they have had him declared legally dead - but the band still puts aside his share of the earnings, just in case. We can't afford to have hope, but we do anyways.
I like to think that he would, at the least, appreciate the conflicting and complicated feelings he generates in us.

I knew that someday I was gonna die
And I knew before I died
Two things would happen to me
That number one: I would regret my entire life
And number two: I would want to live my life over again