Dear Ryan, Thomas said writing you a letter might help me cope with grief. But really it's just making it worse, because I can't see your reaction to this or your smile and....Ryan....
Dad's....doing okay...actually, that a lie. They're still in denial. I still keep thinking that you're going to leap out behind me, trying scaring me, like you always used to do when I was young....or come hurtling out of your room at three in the morning, ranting on about some book you found exciting.....how you did so just to make Dad laugh.....but Dad doesn't laugh anymore. They don't sleep anymore....
When I come downstairs they're always there, in the library, staring at the seat you used to sit in, your favorite book in hand, tears rolling down their face.
But once they see me they act like nothing's happened.
I'd never seen Dad cry before, until you.......died.
They're not Dad anymore. The sides of their mouth will twitch up slightly when they're talking to Shane, Jon or Virgil, but theres no light in their eyes.....
They're a mess. And they hide it well.
I tried talking to them yesterday, properly. To distract them from it. But in less than five seconds they said they had to leave the room....they wouldn't break down in front of me.
Even Shane can't cheer them up, Jon can't, nobody can.