Death is painful but inevitable.
It has been two months since you almost died. And I am just coming out of the desperate, hopeful panic that has fueled me like caffeine.
Over and over, the rush.
Everything is fine. He will be okay. He can’t really die, can he?
Over and over.
Because that was not part of the plan. I had not planned for my brother to die.
The only person who serves as witness to my life. Who watched me grow and fight and love my way into becoming the woman I am now.
Who knows my scars and how I got them.
The only person who speaks the same language as me. The language of siblings.
Where a flick of the eyes means “stop.” A nod of the head, “Let’s go.” Soft smiles, “I love you.” (So many soft smiles.)
We were supposed to do this together. This life. All of it. That was the…
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