I don’t have the words for what I’m feeling, but I’m going to try. My little brother, Austin, passed away, and the pain sitting in my chest doesn’t feel real. Even though he was younger than me, I always looked up to him. He had a light about him, the kind of energy that filled an entire room the second he walked in. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body. Just this goofy, weird, hilarious soul who could make anyone laugh, even on their worst day. I keep replaying memories, his voice, his jokes, him rifting on the guitar, the way he made everything feel lighter without even trying. And I wish I could hold onto him for one more minute, tell him how much he meant to me, how much I loved him, how proud I was to be his brother. Tell him I’m proud of the man he is. Losing someone in this way leaves a different kind of ache. It’s heavy and confusing and cruel. But I want to honor him the only way I know how, by remembering the softness in his heart, the brightness in his smile, the way he made this world better just by being in it. If you knew Austin, you knew how special he was. If you didn’t, I wish you had. I’m going to miss him every single day. I don’t know when this will stop hurting, it feel like a part of me is missing. But I know I’ll carry him with me always. I love you, little brother. I hope you’ve found the peace you deserved.