Good Morning Wake Up Call: Grace Part 2

A Story by Gabby

Here is a little more of Grace's story, and we find out more about her family. Specifically, about her other older brother Dylan.

It wasn't the new school that had me straining for a breath of fresh air when we first moved. It was the house. I had tried to convince myself that moving was going to be good for my parents and Dylan, but I hadn't asked myself what it meant for me. But what I should mention is that even though Daniel is my older brother he was only the second of four children. The eldest is Jennifer, the estranged older sister. She was out of the house when Dylan was twelve and I was eleven, meaning we had a relationship at one point with her. Yet, once she was off in college she decided to cut all communication with our parents. Dylan is only a year older than I am, and currently a senior.
He had taken Daniel's death harder than anyone. And it broke my heart to hear my brother sobbing through the walls of our childhood home. Not everyone can be strong, but Dylan was trying to compose himself for everyone but hims. And that slowly broke him down. After walking into the house, and locking the front door I turned to find both unpacked and empty cardboard boxes. I was still thinking of May and how I was so relieved she agreed to look at my English essay since I hadn’t become very well acquainted with the other students in my class. But then I heard strange hiccups coming from the kitchen. I walked over and I found Dylan lying on the kitchen floor shaking from the amount of crying he had done. He skipped school today. I could tell because he had gotten half dressed in a baseball t-shirt and put on a plaid shirt before deciding he couldn't muster the physical strength to replace his pajama pants with jeans. Let alone think of having to endure a long six hour school day. He’s just exhausted and even more broken.
Now, when Dylan sees me approaching him he opens his mouth to speak. "Grace..." Dylan says through each silent sob, "...you don't have to. Just leave me here." Straining to lift his broad shoulders off the cold tile floor I mention "That's not an option Dylan. If mom comes home and sees you here she's going to cry, and crying leads to Danny." "Well what do you think I’m crying about?" Dylan says angrily. "I think you're crying because you can't get over the fact that even though Danny wasn't in the house for two years and you hardly saw him, you knew he was still alive and having a life. Right now, Danny isn't in the house like always, but this time he's not a phone call away, he's dead."
I finally get Dylan off the floor, up the stairs and in his bed. But as I close the door I’m the one who sinks to the ground outside of my brother’s room. I let the soft carpet cushion my face as I begin to feel the tears roll downwards, leaving a stinging sensation, and watch as each one melts into the floor. Dylan may be the one who is trying to stay strong, but I’m the one trying to breath.