It wasn’t supposed to end like this, he thinks.  He shouldn’t have been the one to outlive them all, but he had.  Now, staring down at the headstones set in a square formation in the quiet cemetery, he feels nothing but despair.  Deep, hopeless despair.

It was true that he’d left them six years ago, and, while they hadn’t been happy with his absence, they’d agreed that it was the best thing for him to do if he wasn’t happy with his life.  They’d held him close for as long as they could, and then, opening their arms, they’d let him go.

His wife tells him that it is time that he let them go as well.  After all, they’ve been gone and buried for almost two years now, but, even knowing so much time had passed and his life had stayed par for the course with where his career was going, it doesn’t help.  He is afraid nothing will.

For fourteen years, he was their mentor, their guide, their friend, their big brother.  He grew to love them as though they were the four younger brothers he’d never had.  They’d angered him, made him laugh, driven him to tears and frustration, and, always, he’d been there for them when they’d most needed him.

Of course, they’d been his support as well.  Whenever he’d needed them, they had been there to help with whatever was bothering him and to cheer him up.  Sure, there were times that the youngest had annoyed him to no end, but, at the end of the day, he’d meant well so there really was no way to stay angry with him for long.

But they are gone now.  They are gone, and, this time, it’s not as though they are on tour and will be back in a few weeks or months.  No, this time, it is permanent, and he will just have to live with it.

He left them all those years ago but always knew that he could see them whenever he chose.  Now, that’s impossible.

No one has been able to quite understand what sort of engine failure had caused the airplane carrying them from Los Angeles to New York City to sputter and crash in the wide open plains of the Midwest.  All that anyone knows is that four, talented men with families, friends, and thousands of fans are gone.  Their bodies were burned to char and ashes, and their viewings were all closed-casket. 

His cousin’s wife and son had perhaps the most difficult time during the funerals.  They should have been on the airplane on that fateful trip, but little Baylee had been sick with a bad cold.  Though his father had tried to stay with his family, he’d been unable to truly justify cancelling an important trip, so he’d gone.

And, now, they’re all gone.

All of them.  Leaving him behind to suffer.

“I should’ve been with you,” he tells them.  His voice whispers across the graves where fresh green grass grows.  There are fairly fresh flowers on his cousin’s grave, and he knows that his widow and son must have been there recently.

He hasn’t brought flowers or anything to leave with them.  He comes often, stares down at them for a long while before leaving, heart heavy.

His wife used to come with him in the beginning, but, as the months have worn on, she’s cut her daily trips down to once a week.  But he comes each day.  He wants them to know that he’ll always be there for them. 

Rationally, he knows there is nothing he could’ve done to change what had happened, but it doesn’t stop the guilt that consumes him.  If he’d never left them, would they still be alive? Would they have gotten on that airplane to go to that meeting where the record company meant to convince them to do a reality show to find a fifth member?

He knows their answer was going to be a firm “no,” but it still doesn’t prevent the guilt from eating at him.

Was he too selfish? Had he wanted to live his life on his own terms too badly? Could he have changed something to prevent this?

He’d never intended to outlive them.  After all, they were younger than him, and he was their big brother.  It doesn’t matter what his therapist tells him, it will never erase the sense of anguish, guilt, and anxiety that he feels.

Now, his cousin’s widow and son are living without a beloved husband and father, while his good friend’s widow gave birth on her own seven months after the accident.  It’s hard to see them going about their lives, trying to live while, within them, they carry a giant hole, gaping and bleeding.

He is glad that the four families agreed to burying their lost sons together.  They grew up together, spending half if not more of their lives together, so it is only fitting that they spend the afterlife together, too.  He wonders if they’re performing up in heaven—if there is a heaven.

He hopes that, wherever they are, they will forgive him for not being by their sides in the end.

He hopes that, one day, he will have the strength to forgive himself for not saving them.

Brushing his fingers over the four granite headstones with their musical note carvings, he sighs heavily and turns to walk out of the cemetery, leaving his four little brothers behind.  As he goes, a warm breeze ruffles the petals of the flowers set over Brian’s grave, winds around AJ, Nick, and Howie’s headstones, and flutters over Kevin as he walks away.