Fred.
It's three years on. It's our birthday. Well, just my birthday now. I guess I should be happy. I'm surrounded by family, by friends, who love me. They loved you. They still do.
Mum still cries. I find her sometimes in the kitchen, early in the morning, weeping. I wish it had been me that had been taken that night, not you.
Our shop is doing well. Not as well as it would have done if you were here, but we're coping. You were the main twin, the superior twin. You had all the crazy ideas. I just helped you make them come true. It was mainly you who got me this far, and I will always be grateful.
I visit your grave every day. I can't believe you're just lying there, still, cold and lonely. I miss you, Fred.
I cry at night. Our room is exactly how we left it, when we came to fight. Why did we fight? Maybe if we had had stayed at home, you would still be here. Your laugh, your hilarious, impossible ideas, your wits. I learnt from you. Now that you're not here, I'm lost.
I'm not sure why I'm writing to you. Maybe, it's because I want to make myself think that you have gone away, and will be coming back soon. Like you've gone to France, for some reason. Not in heaven.
I still feel like you're here, sometimes. I might be working in the shop, and see you walk past. I'll follow you, but you will turn out to be a customer. Or maybe I'm getting changed, and I see you out of the corner of my eye. I look, and it's my reflection.
That's all I was, a reflection of you. But, somehow, I survived. You didn't.
Fred, I love you, and I miss you. I have to do everything I can to stop myself from breaking down whenever you enter my mind. Which is nearly all the time. I think about you all the time. I miss you so much.
Happy Birthday, brother, and
Mischief Managed.
George.
:'( R.I.P. Fred, and Happy Birthday George!
I don't mean it when George says that he's the lesser twin, I just think that George would think of himself as that, after Fred died.
I cried as I wrote this - I have always had a soft spot for Fred and George.