My brother, Justin was born in 1982. I was 16 months old the day he came into this world. We are the only kids of our Mom and Dad. I don’t remember life without him until it happened, 33 years later. I was with him and his wife when he took his last breath. It was the first death in my immediate family.
During Justin’s twenty month fight with Germ Cell cancer (little c on purpose because I hate that word) I came across an article about siblings. It said the sibling relationship is the longest one we’ll ever have. Initially I felt so wronged when he died. I read stats; people Justin’s age have a less than 2% chance of dying. I struggled with accepting and reconciling his death. I guess it was the beginning of the messy work of grief.
My grief is still in process. However, I’m choosing to heal and move forward. Sometimes it’s a step forward and several back. Sometimes it’s a slump and I stay there for a while. And sometimes the step forward is so small I don’t see it until I look back. Everyone grieves differently.
This is my story of choosing life through grief.