Sometimes I remind myself of my oldest brother, Tony, who died a few years ago. A gesture, a certain familiar sound to my voice and then he’s with me again for a few seconds. Invariably, that realization saddens me. My brother never came to know me well as a person, yet I carry part of him with me in some primal way. I’m working to recognize those instances of deep familial recognition as treasured experiences, rather than just sources of sadness.
A lot of folks are dealing with the death of loved ones right now. Telling you this little thing about myself is, I guess, one way to say to them that, although the road ahead is surely bumpy, you’re not alone and I care.