Today is always a bit of a difficult day for me. It’s my brother’s birthday. Born on December 3rd 1972, he would have been 48 years old today, had he lived. Born with both kidneys in failure, epilepsy and fanconi syndrome (Google it!), he didn’t survive to see his 19th birthday. Despite all his health problems and constantly riding the rail between life and death, he was always quick to a smile and always ready to tell his family he loved them.
I was 11 or 12 years old when my brother passed away. They say that when someone loses a limb, they’ll often feel pain in that limb. Like a phantom pain, gone but still felt. This is how it’s been for the past 29 years. My brother may be gone but I feel the pain every day, like a phantom limb. Gone but never forgotten. Happy birthday, bro. ☯