I'm tired, sad and it's still not sinking in. Each day I wake up and carry on, but your absence is constant, and there’s a quiet heaviness. I still can’t quite get my head around the fact that you're not here. I go through the day with little motivation. I manage to tick the writing box, it's what keeps me going. None of this feels real. It’s not dramatic. It’s a missing piece that's constant for now.

The hardest part is that you’re not part of the conversation. People don’t really bring you up these days. It's like you’re slowly slipping out of view, and that’s hard to sit with. My brain is still wired to want to talk about you. And it hits again you're not here. Being a twin isn’t something you can explain unless you're talking to someone who is.

Even when we were doing our own thing, and we weren't in touch you were there in the background. Now it’s just me. It’s not guilt I feel. I know you will be okay, but it’s that empty feeling I carry that continues to catch me. Some days it feels easier than others, then I catch myself again and the heaviness returns. And then other times I feel like all I do is carry the heaviness around – there is no right way to sit with loss, but it still hits.

Time is marching, but I am not ready to move forward just yet – I need to sit. I need space to miss you... to talk about you and to normalise talking about you for as long as I need to talk. To feel better, to come to terms with the fact that we're apart. I don’t know what else to write. Perhaps if I keep writing, I something will come.