The author recounts the day her brother Alex died in a car accident, noting the impact of his loss over 33 years. At 16 years old, she faced the tragic event while preparing for her junior prom. The author shares her ongoing compulsion to tally time spent with and without her brother, as well as moments when she feels the absence of a sibling. These reflections reveal the complexities of grief, the longing for shared memories, and the need for familial support.
The day my brother died, the dogwoods were in bloom. I sat by my bedroom windowsill, painting my nails. Junior prom was just hours away.
This May marked 33 years after his death. Since it happened, I've been thinking in numbers: days, months, eventually years. It's a compulsion, really, this ongoing tally.
Every time the doors swung open, I half-expected my brother to walk through them. It's ridiculous, I know. But grief doesn't age normally.
A witness to your life who carries the same memories, not just from the hospital but from the beginning.
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