Nothing to do

I cannot write poems or pretty things, I can only say I love you, you are my little brother, you know that. I have no answers for your questions, I have no right questions to make you.
I would like to hold you in my arms, to sing you one of those songs you always liked (included Ni wa wa), to tell you about the After Forever concert and to show you the pictures. To hug you and sing to you until you fall asleep and you don't feel that pain anymore.
Hope is the only thing that keeps you going, that keeps us going. I know you hope to live, so I do too. I know you hope not to feel that pain anymore, so I do too. I know you hope to come here to visit me, so I do too. I don't want to hope something that you are not hoping for.
Forgive me if I cannot stop crying, if I don't say the right words when I talk to you. It's just that feeling of not being able to do anything that makes me cry, it's not you. There is nothing I can do but keep calling you and tell you stories, those stories of things you never experienced and you (we) don't know if you will ever do.
I miss you so much, I want to be with you so hard. I am sorry for not being there.

Hope
Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune-without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.