(www.sass-pants.com) — Most days I’m fine. It’s been almost 6 years since my brother Jesse died. But tonight, I can’t get him out of my head. These nights, playing my guitar is what gets me through. Or maybe it makes it worse. I honestly haven’t decided yet. Yet. Like it just happened. But it’s been 2,071 days.
I try to play other songs on these nights, but my fingers keep drawing me back to the song I played at his funeral, on his guitar. We were 5 years apart in age, and we were finally getting to the point where we had stuff in common. I had picked up guitar (not well, I must admit) in high school and then he followed in my footsteps at about the same age. We jammed when I came home from college to visit. If you could call it jamming, I guess, and to be fair you probably couldn’t. But it was so much fun. Continue reading

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