Fly High, Ryan

[my-ryguy]

I miss you so much it hurts

I cry so easily now. It used to take so much for tears to flow down my cheeks. Now, I'm like a cracked window. A little crack and water flows freely.

[mieczyslawstilniski]

they say your home is where your heart is but what if my heart is 6 feet underground with you?

gone, gone, gone. || k.a. (via dvlanobrein)

[discoverment]

[hplyrikz]

Clear your mind here

[positivelypositivethoughts]

[jaredandjensen]

[my-ryguy]

December 1, 2016

Ryan,

Tonight, we are decorating Nan’s Christmas tree. Something we’ve done as a family since we’ve been tiny children. Just another first without you.  I don’t know how to do this without you. I’m me; yet I’m not. I miss you, Ryan.  So damn much. It all comes back to that, doesn’t it?  Me, missing you. Every emotion I feel is based around the fact that I. Miss. You.

I hate that I have to wake up every day without you.  That I can’t feel your hugs, see your smiles, hear your laugh.

I love you.  I’ll live for you. Xoxo

[my-ryguy]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niMyIHMmhFw)

“Is there snow falling down on the streets of gold, are the mansions all covered in white? Are you singing with the angels, Silent Night? I wonder...what Christmas in Heaven is like?”  I miss you so much, Ryan.  It seems that as days pass it only gets harder, not easier.  So many firsts without you. 

[my-ryguy]

Dear Ryan...

My heart has been so heavy lately.  I know why but that doesn’t make it any easier.  You. Are. Gone. & you aren’t coming back.  Some days, I have to explain that over & over to myself.  You aren’t just on vacation.  Yet, it’s like I’m anxiously waiting your return.  Of which, there will be no return.  It’s so strange.  It’s almost as if my brain is disconnected from my heart.  My brain understands that you are not here; not coming back either. Yet my heart, my heart longs for the day where you just show up. I read a quote the other day that said there will never be a time where I’m done with this journey of grief.  I won’t wake up one day & it’ll be over and done with.  I’ll always have this ache for you.  & that scares me.  I’ve always been the person who toughs it out until I’m past the pain.  So, how do I tough this one out? There will not be any light at the end of this tunnel.  I long to hear your voice. To feel your arms wrap around me.  To hear you say my name, Jessie. In only the way you could.  I can no longer share memories with you; just tell them from my perspective.  There’s no one to share childhood inside jokes with.  It’s painful to watch Mom & Dad break down on Thanksgiving because even though their daughter is with them...their son is not. It’ll be even harder Christmas morning. It’s crazy how time works. You don’t want the clock to continue ticking.  You want to freeze the moment.  Not having to live another second without you on this earth.  & yet the clock continues. Life continues. So, I’ll live this life I’ve been given.  I’ll live this life to make you proud. But don’t for one second think that I don’t miss you.  Because I ache for you. I love you so much, Ryan.  So damn much. I long for the day I’ll see you again. Fly High, Ryguy.  Dance with the angels.  I love you.  

[out-in-the-open]

So many brother feelings over this scene. The way Sammy just grabs on to Dean’s jacket and clutches it. The way Dean tries to talk Sam out of the dark thoughts. The way Sam tries to get his brother to safety. The way Dean refuses to leave Sam. The way Dean just inhales the smoke.  It really is “there ain’t no me, if there ain’t no you” and it’s tragically beautiful. 

[itssamforyou]

We all deserve to see this gif of Jared thinking he is so funny because Jensen smiled. The boys make me so happy.

[meanwhilepoetry]

If you don’t let it out, the grief becomes a scream trapped inside your soul, a constant cry in the dark, a sob you can never release. So scream, shout, cry, the way the sky does with thunder and lightning and rain…for it knows it is being cleansed, it knows that it’s storm is the only way to release the pain.

Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)

[survivingsiblingsuicide]

The sibling relationship is more complex than nearly any other, a mixture of affection and ambivalence, camaraderie and competition. Aside from our parents, there is no one else on earth who knows us better, because like our parents, our brothers and sisters have been beside us from the very beginning. Unlike our parents, however, our siblings are people we assume will be part of our lives for the rest of our lives. In terms of the span of time, the intimacy, and the shared experience of childhood, no other relationship rivals the connection we have with our adult brothers or sisters. From schoolyard bullies to teenage broken hearts, from careers to marriage to dreams unfulfilled, our siblings have been there through it all, life-partners in our journey through time. They are the keepers of secrets, perennial rivals for our parents’ affections, and a secure and familiar constant in an often precarious and uncertain world. Why then, are surviving siblings often passed over and even ignored in the grief process, not only by condolers, but also by the so-called grief professionals?

TJ Wray, Surviving Adult Siblings: The Forgotten Bereaved, http://www.selfgrowth.com/articles/Surviving_Adult_Siblings_The_Forgotten_Bereaved.html  (via survivingsiblingsuicide)

[survivingsiblingsuicide]

…siblings were meant to be parallel travelers, in life’s longest relationship.

Elizabeth DeVita-Raeburn, The Empty Room

[my-ryguy]

Sibling Loss Awareness Day <3

Today is a day for all us mourners to be recognized for the pain we suffer day in and day out. Some days are so much harder than others. Some, so much easier. But on the easiest of days, it is still one of the hardest days. Nothing will ever be harder than that awful day but nothing will ever be easier than you living this life with me. 

I miss you so much, every single day.  When the sun rises, I miss you.  When the sun sets, I miss you. And when the sun is high in the sky, I miss you. 

I wonder some days, when I’ll wake up and be back to myself.  It’s hard for me to realize that I’ll never be that person again. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that that me is gone forever. The person I was for 26 years is gone. I was your sister for 23 years; I’ll always be your sister.  But trying to L.I.V.E. this life without you is much harder than I had anticipated. 

I will live my life for you and you alone.  Always.  

I love you. 

[c0mp4ssion-deactivated20180924]

I have never talked about this publicly, in any fashion, except to my close friends and family, but I have a story to tell. The story I am writing right now, at 3:40am on Friday, October 1st, is a story that doesn’t belong to me. It is the story of Masey Sutphin. She passed away on April 20th, 2016, the day after her 22nd birthday. Reading the date makes it sound like such a short while ago, but it has been the longest 170 days I ever endured in my entire life. Masey ingested a fentanyl patch and passed away within the hour, leaving behind a broken family– a grandmother, a grandfather, a mother, and two sisters. When I think of how I would describe her, the word addict never comes to mind, not even once. Caring, compassionate, full of love and light that even the most blind man could see. I would describe her as the glow and warmth she gave to everyone around her. I would describe her as a silly, high pitched laugh. I would describe her as the perfect messy bun on a hot day. I would describe her as a high school graduate in pursuit of a college degree at UNCG. I would describe her as hope in the world even when she felt hopeless. I would describe her as the most powerful sunsets and the most vivid roses. I would describe her as friendly and passionate in the way she spoke, felt and loved, but I would never once describe her as an addict. Masey developed an addiction to opioids in 2013 after a very traumatic, abusive relationship. In the beginning of 2016, she tried heroin for the first time to soothe the pain that seemed never ending. Nobody saw her for two weeks after that. Her mother hunted her down and got her clean in the chaos of love. By March, her opioid addiction had slimmed drastically and she had been clean from heroin for a month and half. To avoid what she thought was severe relapse and enjoy her birthday coming to an end, she was given a fentanyl patch by her father. The patch that killed her. The patch that ruined my life. Masey didn’t want to die; she wanted life. She took all the hate, pain and anger everyone around her felt and she turned it into something beautiful. She turned it into strength. Masey had an addiction, but she was not her addiction. Addict didn’t define her. Love did. 

It is important for me to share her story, because so many people demonize addicts. People turn them into monsters when they are already constantly fighting daily demons and pulling out rot from their inner core. Masey Sutphin is my sister. Masey taught me how to believe in myself, she taught me how to spread love into the world, she taught me to be kind and to always do the best I can, and that sometimes it’s okay that my best isn’t perfect. When she found out I self harmed in the 7th grade, she saved my life. She held me when I cried over my first break up. She guided me as I went to highschool and she cussed out every teacher that was mean to me, but in the most polite way.  When I got my first C, she told that progress looked differently on everybody. For my 15th birthday, she took me to see my favorite band with her college refund check because she knew I would never get have another opportunity and it was important to her that I have it. It was important to her that I experience the world, that I know happiness. Masey built me into the women I am today. She taught me how to be strong, what it means to love unconditionally, and how important it is that I pursue my dreams. Masey’s aura was red. It was the intense sunsets, it was the vivid, lively roses. It was passion in anger and the taste of love. It was everything weak and everything powerful all in one. I quickly realized when the end of her life came, it was not about what she took from this cruel world, it was about all the wonderful things she gave to it. 

Her death has left me lost, it has left me frozen in time. Her death has consumed me with me guilt, regret and grief. The weight of this loss had me caged in my bed for 2 months. I cried and rocked silently back and forth for hours on end. I missed all my final exams. I couldn’t remember what food tasted like. I didn’t know what sleep or what peace meant. The closest to death I have ever felt was the months that followed. Dead on the inside. Dead outside. Dead. When you lose a sibling, you lose a piece of everything you are. You lose your childhood, your memories, your safe haven. I am still in the process of reassembling my life. Finding my purpose in life seemed almost useless without the one women I wanted to share it with, but I live to tell her story. I live to tell friends and families of addicts and victims to do everything they can to get their loved one help. I live to tell people just how important it is to cherish life, to cherish your loved ones. I live to say that there is hope out there, and please don’t ever stop looking for it. Masey was a daughter, a sister, a friend, her life touched the paths of so many. She deserved a second chance at life, but I am here, now without her, to let her story shed light and pass on. If you struggle with addiction, you are not alone and you are not defined by the chaos that rules your life. Every day, I wear her story on my skin as my body armor. The balloon represents the phrase “Miss me, but let me go” as a daily reminder to do everything she always hoped I could achieve and let her rest in peace.

I am here to tell the story of Masey Sutphin (1994-2016). 

“Color my life with the chaos of trouble” 

[thestoryofabiglittlesister-deac]

[dearalyssanoelle]

Always makes me think of you <3

[my-ryguy]

I hear these words & see your face. My baby brother, how I miss you.