I’ve written a lot about losing my brother. It’s been over four and a half years that he’s been gone, and still the wound feels fresh. I think about him most days, especially when I’m spending time with my children and thinking how much they would have loved their uncle. Every once in a while I hear a song or have a conversation that reminds me of him and it’s like he’s there all over again, leaving that feeling of loss moments later when I remember the truth.
But in November, I was able to find some small measure of peace. The tears have stopped coming so frequently, the pain has become familiar enough to carry, and the anxiety over what comes next has mellowed.
In November, four and a half years after losing my brother, his murderer was finally declared guilty.Continue reading