I never want them to grow up and say, “Because my brother died, I also lost my mom.”
The words left her lips, and a golf-ball sized lump arose within my throat. Her words were mine, but I had never spoken them aloud. But there we sat, the breeze gently scooting our crumpled napkins across the metal table outside of our favorite coffee shop. There were people around, but we didn’t seem to notice. There we sat, two hearts who know the pain too well, tears glossing our eyes over as we spoke our greatest fears. Well actually, our second greatest fears. The first ones already happened.