My faith had never been tested more than this day last year.  He told me he was dead before I even arrived in the emergency room and held his cold hand, so in the moments that followed, I'm not sure why I questioned God's kingdom so much.  What if I never saw him again?  What if when you die, you just die?  What. If.  But from the moments before when he sat next to me in the car like a comforting hug to the many moments after that can not be explained through logic and reason, I know that he sees us, he tries to tell us things, and most importantly, he is happy where he is.

Years ago I gave him a poem that I had written as a Christmas gift - partly because I was poor, but partly because I have always been able to express myself better on paper than in person.  I wanted him to know how much I loved him, and "I love you" just doesn't cover a lifetime.  It has been a year now that I have searched and searched for this poem.  I contacted his ex, I searched my hard drive, every USB drive I found stashed in a drawer I would pop into the computer and hold my breath while waiting for it to magically appear on my screen.  I was desperate to find it.  I needed to remember what I wrote to him.  I needed to know that he knew what he meant to me and having that poem would assure me that he did.  My brain knows that my brother was aware of my love for him, but in my irrational grief I wanted to be 100% sure that there was a moment in his life that he was certain that his sister loved him.  And I could find comfort in that.  Except I couldn't.  Because it was gone.

A few days ago my mom texted me.

"Look what I got."

It seems that when his previous landlords were going through the house after he had moved out - they found some of his things, and kept them for him.  They ran into my younger brother about a month ago and found out that Josh had passed away...and then returned with a box of stuff that contained the poem. 

I can't help but feel that this time, the poem is meant for me, from him.

Love, Kol
Whispering Stories
of another wold,
in giggles.
Climbing trees to the top
of ambition,
spirits falling
when the sun set.
Adolescence brings
yet never breaks
the branch.
You would be my choice,
had I been
given one.
When rain skips
like rocks
over your smile,
find shelter
in my laughter.
Someday the stump will remain;
count the winding rings -
and remember.