The words I wish I'd said

August the twenty first, just a day like any other. Except that its not anymore. Early this morning I awoke to tragic news.

"Sammie, Sammie, wake up sweety."

"Mom, leave me alone, I'm tired." I whined, writhing under the covers of my captain style bed.

"It's important."

Groaning, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, and then she spoke again full of emotion. "Uncle Mitch is dead." No words came out of my mouth, no thoughts came into my mind. I sat vacant, certainly I must have heard her wrong. "They found him in a cramped bathroom with a needle gripped in his hand, heroine." Still nothing, as if the words never existed, with tears in her eyes she left the room. I didn't budge, I must have sat there for ten minutes, expressionless before I finally fell back asleep.

Three hours passed before I woke again. No memory of the information told to me such a short time ago. Stretching thoroughly, I slowly began to wake up. After a good yawn I hopped out of bed and walked into the living room for breakfast, but to my surprise, my mother sat on the couch with a  single photo of my uncle, crying. Suddenly my heart stopped and the memory of earlier that morning flooded back in.

Uncle Mitch is dead, he's dead. . .gone. . .I thought it had been a terrible nightmare as they were quite common for me. I felt my throat squeeze and my eyes burn as the tears covered my vision. "Oh my god, it wasn't a dream." Mom turned to look at me, face red, tear stained cheeks. "I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe my brother is just gone."

"I. . .I need to go for a walk, I just, I need to clear my head." I felt awful for leaving but I couldn't stop my feet from walking me out the door, and then further out of the breeze way, but I only made it a few feet before I collapsed to my knees. Tears poured down my cheeks to the point of dripping down my shirt, my lungs squeezed, I could barely breathe and each breath I did get burned deep in my chest.

Memories flashed through my mind. From the time I was a baby Mitch was my hero, like the dad I felt I never had. We played tag, he taught me to cook, he gave me piggy back rides, and made me laugh when I was sad. A year ago this time of year I messaged him over Facebook, as I always came to him for advice. Three of my friends had died within the same week and I attended two funerals within a day of each other. Yet his quirky sense of humor and sympathy comforted me as it seemed my world had been plagued with death. I wished I call him now, but the person I ran to for comfort, guidance, and advice so often was gone. My mind could not wrap around that fact. I never even got to say goodbye. I never got to share with him all the stories I thought I'd write. So much had been left unsaid. Every fight we'd ever had dug a hole in my head. I just wished I could have told him how much I looked up to him, and that I loved him just one last time. I had never been much for expressing how much I really did care. The things I should have said were the words that hurt the worst. I would have told him he was like a father to me. I would have told him how much I loved him. How he was the funniest, most kind person I had ever known. Most importantly I would tell him it was him who inspired me to never stop following my dreams. Never again would I neglect to express my feelings to those I love.

I pulled out my phone, and scrolled through the contacts, my hands trembled as I realized there was no one I wanted to call. I had good friends and family, but as my heart steadily broke I didn't want any of them to see me so weak, so broken. Cupping my head in my hands, I didn't know what to do. The only thing I could think to do was go back inside and grieve with my mother, it wasn't that that was a bad thing, so much as since my father had left I always did my best to be strong for her. But this time, neither of us had strength enough to bear the pain.

One foot after the other I approached the door and extended my shaking hand to turn the knob. She still sat there now gripping the photo to her chest. I walked over and sat next to her and laid my head on her shoulder, tears still streaming down my cheeks as if they'd never end."I love you mom," I cried softly. "I love you too, Sammie," she quietly replied. We sat, from then on, in silence, a mutual understanding that no words need be exchanged as there were no words to be said. Mitch was gone, and life would move on like nothing ever happened to all but those who loved him dearly. After all, that's what life is, we all live and we all die. My heart was shattered as it would be for months to come, Mitch was gone, but he would live in our hearts forever. As for that moment, I knew, the only thing I could do was breathe and look to the future. What had happened, happened, there was no changing that fact. There was no reason to look back.