multiplicity_archives | To my brother, whom I love.

He wasn't the angel who fell, but it was he who landed.
He walked on broken bones and carried me back into life.
He would give you the skin off his back if he thought you needed it.
He was loud, sometimes rude, it was his way. To stand in a room with him, I've heard,
was to stand in an aura that said that everything was ok.

He handled crisis, calamity, pain and struggle, and he handled it with skill.
Of all of his friends, I can count on my fingers those who knew his name.
He fought his desire for credit with everything he had, to his detrament
His purpose was to help others, it was his way of paying back the sins of his predecessors,
sins he believed he owned. it was his path to redemption. He believed he would never have it,
but he intended to deserve it on the day it was denied him.

A clear conscious was everything to him, and it drove him mad.
He fought for his friends, even if they didn't want it.
He was a visionary, it was the details that always undid him.
His failure was two-fold. He never learned to care for himself,
and his greatest enemy was his greatest desire: a life of peace,
in which he found no place.

He made me be strong as I took my first steps into life.
He'd tell me everything I would need, as I faced the hardest points in my life,
He told me everything he knew.
Then he made me take those steps without fuss.

A normal hug is nicest on the places where you touch. his hugs I felt on my entire body.
He made me be brave, and when I need to be, I remember him.

He took life on his terms, and he's never been a victim. ever. he wouldn't allow it.
I was there the day he attacked the mountain.
I was there the day he should have died, but didn't.
I was there the day he decided to not get back up.

To my brother, whom I love
~Tia