Things Left Unsaid

I was always told by my mother when I was younger and was about to scream something hurtful at my brother, "Things left unsaid are things left unbroken." Every time I heard it, I would shut my mouth. I wanted to hurt my brother because of whatever he had said to me, or whatever he had did to me, but...I never did because of her words.
Not because I found them inspiring, not because I thought she was right, but because my mother was dead yet I was hearing her voice.
It seemed like she was right next to me whenever I heard the words; I'd be able to feel her hot breath at the back of my neck, I'd be able to feel the whisper of her words blow into my ear, but no one was there; no one could be there.
After a while, I blew it off as paranoia, figuring it was my mothers absence coming back to haunt me. But was it really? I thought so for the longest time...until my Brother got in a car crash, that is.
After that, everything changed...again.
My dad and I weren't really on speaking terms after that other then the occasional, "Zelda, pass the salt" at dinner.
One night, my dad gestured for me to pass the salt--sometimes we didn't even speak then--and I heard the slightest whisper in my ear; I felt hot breath on my neck, I felt air blow into my ear and I dropped the container as I heard the words, "I'm still here"...in my brothers voice....