Dear Henrik [Since I want pain]
It’s a ridiculous thing to write to you, I know, I know. You’ve been dead for a thousand years, right? Some would say by now I should have gotten over it. Well, I haven’t. I think I never will, not even if I live five thousand years. Because I was there when you were born, and I remember holding you in my arms and how you just wouldn’t stop screaming, even if Mother was unsure about letting me holding you because she was afraid I would drop you.
I didn’t, of course. I may have been only six years old, but I would have never allowed myself to let you fall.
I miss your laugh, your smile, your voice. I miss you running around, seeing your face and spending time with you, even if you were one of the biggest brats I had ever met. But I miss you, Henrik, I miss you ever single day that goes by. Which is ridiculous, isn’t it? I should have gotten used by now not having you. But I can’t, you were my little brother and I’m sorry you died, I really am.
And I hope you found peace. I hope you didn’t know the torment of the Other Side and you didn’t have to see our family get destroyed. I hope that, wherever you are, you are happy.