Life was great. I was planning my wedding. Of course, with the news that was about to come, everything would change. And no one is ever prepared for something like this.
I got several calls within a short amount of time. The news was always different. Finally, my mother told me the truth; he was only being kept alive in order to donate his organs. She would let me know when the funeral was so I could come home.
Life proceeded almost normally for the next few days. I don’t think it was quite real to me. How could it be? He was my age. No one my age dies, right?
That weekend I went back to my hometown to say my good-bye. I still was fine. However, once I saw his younger brother (who, by the way, looks a lot like him), I started to lose it. And it only got worse once I saw him lying there, never to smile at me again.
I knew then that I would have regrets. Mostly about not saying things I should have said a long time ago. And it’s still hard to think about. Always will be.