And again we finished another month! Last month I reported on having a bad reading month and this time it’s the opposites – oh, how the tides can turn haha.

This month I managed to secure my sparkly spring badge, but sleep is for the weak, so I’m already working on the next sparkly badge! Has anyone else started on the summer badge yet? Can’t wait for the summer readalong to officially start tomorrow!

You know the drill, I’ve prepared a little template for you so we can all share some May stats:

books in total: favorite(s): least favorite: most surprising: longest read: shortest read: excited for in June:

I'll leave my own stats in the comments!!

Ok, so this might be a weird place to share this but it also seems appropriate in a way. I resonated with Landon's grief and wanted to share some personal thoughts.

I lost my older brother when I was 11 he was barely an adult. The details are different but I recognized myself in a lot of what Landon said throughout the book. And Landon's experience hit very close to home.

He could only guess at the adult she would have become.

Who would my brother would have become if only he had the chance? Who would I be, if he was still here with us? I'll never get answers to those questions, obviously, and I have to be okay with that. I'm now older than he ever got to be, and going through that threshold was a hard experience, too.

Landon pressed his palm to his chest. This all felt like too much. Like the three of them were on the brink of stepping into sunshine together after eight long years in the dark.

I also felt that darkness, that heaviness hanging over us, over our pain, while we all tried to keep going with what felt like a missing limb. Over time, the sun found a way through the fog of our sadness and anger and we carried on. The darkness is always there, some days it's harder to see the light, but on other days, we can almost forget the darkness.

“I’m all they have left,” Landon said quietly, “and I’m a terrible son”

The first part of that phrase is literally what one of my parents said to me when we heard the news: "you're all we have left". The second part sometimes creeps up on me if I'm feeling down, when I make a mistake or when I think I made the wrong choice. There's guilt and a weight we carry with us.

“I’ve spent so many years trying to be perfect, or trying to disappear. Trying to cope with being the one who got to—” He took a breath and continued. “To live without ever believing that I was worthy of it. It’s...lonely.”

In my case, I was mostly trying to not cause problems, not trying to be perfect, but more so being quiet. The loneliness is definitely something that resonates, too. I've always been more introverted and comfortable with spending time alone, that's just who I am and that's fine. But beyond that, there's a latent loneliness of not having my sibling somewhere in the world, along for the ride. We were supposed to go through life together, watch our parents get old, see each other succeed and fail, build lives of our own, but always with something tying us together as brother and sister.

But life had to happen differently and sometimes I feel like missing my older brother is missing my anchor.

I don't share this for sympathy, and I'm good, I'm healthy. I was very lucky with my parents, still am. I have a great support system and I've had many years to deal with the worst of the grief.

But like Landon's story was a representation of my grief, maybe it is for someone else, too. For anyone that would have a similar experience, or wanted to share, please do. Either way, I send much love your way 🫶🏻

Of course, I can remove the post if it's disturbing the forum or upsetting for other readers 🤍