Here without you (Remembering Brad Arnold)

Dear Brad, I'm sorry I'm late. I was busy through your last days. I'm sorry I didn't check. After failing June, after a clean May, I crawled back to the songs YouTube would recommend— "Here Without You," and then the comments. What I read there, I still can't bear. I really thought you'd live. I believed miracles could happen. I knew it was tough, but you were rich; you'd get the best treatment, stand back up on your feet, and keep going. But instead, at 3 a.m., unable to sleep, I read the cruel news. You were only forty-seven. Yet when I remember your final words, I remember peace. Peace in life. Peace beyond the race. Peace beyond shallow thoughts, and beyond the noise of existence. You taught me how to feel presence in absence. You taught me how to fight addictions in silence. You taught me how to carry on through mental chaos, and how to wear resilience when nothing felt certain. You taught me that even pain can be defeated, even when time is short. To most, you were a singer. To many, a friend. To some, a father or a brother. To one, a husband. But to me, you were nostalgia. You were grief. You were a teacher and a doctor. And somehow, you were a thief— stealing disorder from troubled minds. I'll miss you, Brad. I hope we'll meet someday. But first, I have to defeat it too. I have to give back too. I have to find peace too. "It's not my time." But I'll always love you.

Priyadarshan2009

I'm trying to be more humble and kind, by speaking out my unspoken complaints, and grievances here.

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