I don't know what it is about the night time, but they are the worse. I guess that's when I have time to thing, when I have time to really think. And thinking this week hurts. Physically hurts. My chest is constantly tight. I'm snotty because this is night 3 in a row that I've cried. I work hard not to just scream & cry as loud as possible, which hurts as well.
It's just after midnight on May 25th. It's officially the eve of D-Day.
That's death day.
I can't remember him. And some things, I never even thought to look at. So some things I don't know.
I hate myself for not knowing. I hate myself for not making myself realize that I needed to look at little things to try to remember them. I hate myself for not taking more pictures. I hate myself for letting him die. And I hate everyone who forget him or refuses to remember him over the next couple of days. And I hate anyone who only took his death as a story to spread around like cheap gossip.
And I hate spam comments, like the following one which was on this post about Jules saying he was going to die like Joel:
Those little guys are the craziest, toddlers are the funniest haha
I hope people that should care about him actually do over the next few days.