By Loletia Medina, 18
I was always jealous of my brother. I used to fight him over little things and I’d say that I hated him and wished he would fall off the face of the earth. I prayed many nights that my wishes would come true.
One night on my way back to my group home, I said goodbye to him as he locked the door behind me. The next day was a good day, sunny and bright. Well, little did I know that the night before my brother was murdered. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I almost died when I found out. I cried many nights and asked God why He allowed this to happen. Then I remembered all the times I used to fight with him and call him names. I felt like it was my fault, like I had wished his death out of anger.
I wish I could have changed the things I said and did to him. I would have talked out our differences instead of fighting. I would have talked to him more about his interests and hobbies. I found a letter he wrote with three wishes on it: to complete high school, make my mother happy, and complete some time in the service.
There is nothing I can do to change the way I treated him. What I would like to do is to complete my brother’s journey by having a positive and loving life. I never told my brother that I loved him until he was in his casket, and I regret not telling him while I had so many chances. Now I tell my loved ones that I love them before it is too late.
