It's a strange time of year for us.
Today would have been my father's eighty-fifth birthday. He died of ill-health just over two years ago. Longing, by the end, to go. I don't remember the date of his dying - it took some time. I remember his birth with thanks.
Two days ago, thirteen years ago, my brother died suddenly. He had so much to live for - a happy marriage, a three year old daughter, a baby son. A life wiped out in an instant, a shared life taken from them all.
A lost future.
Now the daughter is sixteen.
Thirteen years, and life has gone on.
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