My brother would have been 38 today. It’s so strange to try to picture him as a man. A grown man. An old man. He died 16 years ago just before his 21st Birthday.
He would have aged well I’m sure, both my sister and I have. He’d have some wrinkles – laugh and worry lines. And be looking distinguished with a bit of grey.
I think of the last time I saw him and it’s just too painful. Tears are stinging my eyes. Instead I prefer to remember this guy.
This was taken about a year before he died on our trip to Ireland. We had so much fun. He was so much fun. An odd combination of funny and serious, that one. He was kind and generous and a complete stubborn pain in the ass. My little brother was all those things and more.
38. Imagine that? I can. And it makes me smile and cry at the very same time.
Right now my kids are fighting about sitting next to each other. Brother and sister :-) I was secretly glad when I found out my third child was a boy. Little brothers are special. I was excited that they would have one. I miss mine.