I'm sitting here, trying to find the proper words to convey the things I'm feeling, but I'm at a complete loss. I've sat here, multiple times a day since Sunday, just trying to figure out what to write and how to write it, only to erase everything and leave the computer, no closer to understanding how I'm feeling or knowing how to write it all out than I was on Sunday when I first heard the devestating news. I don't even want to type it out. I don't want it to be real. I want to get a phone call that says, "They were wrong...it wasn't him afterall!" but the phone call never comes. Instead, I'm just left with the realization and the heartache of knowing that my little brother is dead...that some person took it upon themselves to decide that his life was no longer worth living. What the hell do they know? Who the hell are they to make that decision?

I am so full of anger. I'm angry at the people who did this to him. I'm angry at the people who know who did this to him and are choosing not to come forward to the police. I'm angry at myself for not doing more for him. I'm angry at people who choose to take this time of grief and use it to tear other people apart.

I'm so full of guilt. I feel guilty that I moved so far away and wasn't able to see him very often. I feel guilty because for so long I felt like I should ask him to move down to San Diego with us and give him a place to live, help him get into college, etc., but I never asked. I feel guilty because when I did see him, I didn't hug him enough...I didn't try hard enough to let him know just how much I love him...I didn't tell him how much I wanted him to come home.

I'm so full of heartache. I'm absolutely torn to pieces over his death. There are times I can't even think straight because the grief is so great. I'm heartbroken for my kids, who are too young to remember all the times their uncle played with them, throwing them around on the trampoline, throwing them up in the air, giving them hugs, laughing at them when they fell down. I'm heartbroken because they won't have the wonderful memories that I have of him. It hurts to see my older daughters cry, saying how sad they are that they have so few memories of him and now won't be able to make anymore.

I'm heartbroken for my little sisters, Taleisha and Chelsie...who have been through way too much in their short years. I can't imagine the pain they must be feeling after losing so many people in their lives, and now having to deal with all of the family politics that come into play with a death and having to realize, at way too young of an age, that death brings out the ugliness in so many people, when all they should be having to deal with is their own grief.

Finally, I'm just heartbroken for my mom. She lost her child. No mother should have to deal with the death of a child...especially not one so young. She has been his mom since he was ten years old. I actually remember the first time I heard him call her mom. I can remember seeing her eyes light up as she responded, "Yes, Isaac?" I know that at that point in time, it couldn't have been easy for him to call her mom. He had just lost his mom. However, in no time at all, it was as though we had all been family forever. He loved her as his mom and she loved and cherished him as her child. No one can ever take that away from her. His death has just reaffirmed the strength and bond of our family.

I've been seeing pictures of Isaac on the myspace pages of some of his family members. They honestly make me laugh a little. He looks so tough. He has this "Don't mess with me," attitude, but my goodness, I know the person he was inside. He's the person who my kids loved to play with. He's the little boy with the infectious laugh and the huge smile. He's the kid who constantly had bumps bruises and scrapes from being a crazy kid. He's the guy, who no matter what he was going through in life, could show up at home and calm all of our fears that he might have changed. He was Isaac...my little brother and I miss him like crazy.

So, tonight, the kids were talking to eachother, asking, "What should we make mommy for breakfast on mother's day?" Ethan said, "I know! We can get her a fruit and yogurt parfait from McDonalds!" Caitlin, the ever practical one, asks, "How will we get there?" Ethan says, "Mommy can drive us!" Me, overhearing the conversation, says jokingly, "Yeah, then I can come home, get back in bed and pretend to be all surprised when you bring me breakfast in bed!" Ethan...completely seriously...says, "No, that would be stupid."

Okay, so I know every mom tends to think, "Wow, my child's GIFTED, I'm tellin' ya!" at some point or another...whether it be their child speaking in complete sentences, coming in first place at tae kwon do tournaments, or whatever. So, I suppose it will come as no shock when I tell you, "My child is GIFTED, I'm tellin' ya!"

Case and point: Cole has really been into numbers lately. (He just turned five, by the way) He's always counting, adding things up, etc. He's been working really hard on his addition and is just starting to work on subtraction. (Last night he asked about how to subtract a bigger number from a smaller number and is absolutely fascinated by negative numbers now. lol) This morning, in the car, he says, "I know what 18 plus 18 is." This isn't surprising...he can add pretty much anything these days. I asked him, "Okay, what is 18 plus 18?" He said, "36!" "Very good, Cole, that's right!" He then comes up with, "I know what 9 times 4 is." I was a bit taken aback because we haven't worked on multiplication at all. I asked him, "What is 9 times 4?" "36! Because 9 plus 9 is 18, and18 plus 18 is 36, so you have four nines in 18 plus 18, so 4 9's is 36!" I asked him, "Okay, so if 9 times 4 is 36, what is 4 times 9?" "Nine fours is the same as four nines, so it's 36!" I was absolutely shocked! I had no idea he knew this stuff!

Yes, my friends, my child is GIFTED, I'm tellin' ya!

Asthma victim numero dos: