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To my “I have a good feeling about South” brother:
I think your name might have been James. Our mother had nothing but kept the two of us alive until we could fend for ourselves. I had just started to play and you took up farming for us. Mom passed away far away from us, but her absence kept us together. Being both male, you suggest we take a basket of carrots each and go on an adventure. It wasn’t much but we lived berries by berries until you said we should go south. “I have a good feeling about this”. We lost each other. You went one way and I went the other way, I found your mirage and tried to feed you. But you disappeared. No bones. I kept going south in hopes of finding you or your remains. Old age took me.

To my “Can’t grief someone who doesn’t care” and bad ass hunter mom:
I made 8 baskets for our crops, but there was nothing to pick. You never praised me for it and I felt sad. After you were gone my brother and I grew distant and independant. I had a baby of my own and I raised him into teen hood. I gave him my last berry in hopes that he made it. You gave me a small tour as a baby and we had plenty of berry bushes. Thank you. Also we found your stack of dead rabbits but he didn’t wanna cook em so we put your bones by them.