Brad Smith (jesus_h_biscuit) wrote,
Brad Smith
jesus_h_biscuit

June 30th

I hate this date. The only date I hate more than this one is June 28th. June 28th, 1986, I got a phone call from my best friend's boyfriend, calling me in broken speech and hysterics to inform me that she was dead. Suicide. 14 years old. I have no pictures of her, but there is one on her grave marker underneath a little brass cover.

June 30th, 2000 - my best friend Shane dies suddenly after scoring a homerun in a company sponsored softball game. He collapsed after crossing home plate and went into a flurry of seizures and respitory arrest, his blood having been toxic from medication he had been prescribed that his body was not metabolizing. I have a picture taken of him as he swung the bat - he died two minutes after it was taken. Click here to see it.

19 years. 5 years. I hate this fucking week every year. I miss them terribly and I cannot stop thinking about them, hearing their laughter, seeing them smile and a million other things I will never stop missing. I know this sounds trite and cliché, but if I could just have one more day with them, just one fucking day, I might have some peace with all of this. Instead, I have to live with the realization that I still feel broken.
Tags: shane, staci
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  • MRI Images

  • Peace From Broken Pieces

    Yesterday morning while trying to face being me right now (and that shit ain't easy, trust me) and have the courage to get out of bed and motivate…

  • The Most Beautiful Heartbreak

    Now and again something finds you when you most need it. Sometimes, if you're really lucky, that thing will open your eyes in a way they've never…