Free Painted Boots by Mechelle Morrison

I expected, like maybe he was hurt and needing help.  He’d rigged his shotgun and I don’t know if you know, but a shotgun can make a mess.  Blood was everywhere.  His body was slumped back, and the only thing looking at me was what was left of his face.
     
    All the love I had for my brother left me that day, like I puked it out right along with my breakfast.  After that, I don’t remember.  Maybe I passed out, ‘cause it was a while before I had the wits to call my dad.  He came with Mom, and an ambulance came and a lot of other people, too.  I ran off into the field and stayed there, scared as shit, dry puking and crying and screaming at the sky until Evan was cleaned up and gone.  Then I let my parents get close enough to take me home.
     
    Evan didn’t leave a note.  Dylan asked me would a note matter and at first I said ‘sure.’  But while we talked I came to see that Evan’s reasons for taking his life, whatever they were, wouldn’t hold weight to my thinking.
     
    Maybe Evan was depressed, or angry, or lonely or struggling with something, like drugs.  But even with what I’ve been through since, and I mean the stuff with Em, I never once considered ending my own life.  Dylan told me that one problem with suicide is that the people left behind can’t find a reason—any reason—worth dying over.  So we don’t get why someone we love would do it.
     
    Dylan called suicide a dual-edged sword.  On one hand, the person choosing to die has burrowed into a place in their head no one else can be and on the other, because we can’t be there, we can’t ever understand.  It renders us helpless and Dylan warned me.  That helpless feeling never really goes away.
     
    Being in Salt Lake, in a place so different it feels like another planet, puts me far from the problems that brought me here.  It’s easy to think all the stuff that goes on in Gillette is nothing; like one ant hill never knowing that another exists.  Like Evan’s death was nothing in the scheme of things.  Like I’m nothing in the scheme.  Does that make sense?  It was a good session, like I said, but it left me feeling blue because Dylan is right.  I’ll always feel helpless when it comes to Evan dying.
     
    Here in the hotel, typing out this email at my laptop, is as close to you as I can be right now.  And I’ll tell you girl, it isn’t near close enough.  I want to hold you something fierce, but my mom says we’re here until the Monday before Thanksgiving.  Mom says if I need hugs she’s here for me, but beyond that I need to be patient.  Then I start thinking on your kisses and stuff and you know.
    I miss you Aspen.
    K
     
     
    Aspen Brand [email protected]
    To KyleKDTlovesyou
     
    Hi Kyle,
    D on’t fret or anything!  I’m here, and missing you, too.
     
    I’m so sorry about your brother.  What you went through with him is horrible, I can’t even imagine.  I cried when I read what you wrote.  I’m crying now.  I know how you felt, out there in the field alone, angry and scared.  I went there in my own way, over my mom.  How you got through seeing your brother like that, all bloody and messed up, tells me you’re strong. I hope you’ll understand when I say this, but it would be good to find a way to remember your love for him.  I mean love for the person he was before he killed himself.  Then maybe you won’t feel as helpless.  My mom always told me we have all the power over how we feel.  I’d forgotten she said that, until now.
     
    I think suicide is a huge betrayal.  It’s selfish.  But I thought about what Dylan said to you.  I guess one way to view it is the person killing themselves has exhausted their logic.  They aren’t the person you love anymore.  They’re trapped in their thoughts, and can’t see out.  My guess is Evan lost sight of his love for you and your parents.  If he hadn’t, he would still be here.  So maybe it’s okay to love who he was and at the