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Three weeks ago, on July 30th, my brother passed away at home surrounded by his best friends and his family. He was 38 years old and leaves behind 4 wonderful, exasperating kids and a huge group of people who will always miss him.
Ever since he was diagnosed last summer, I've been counting days. Every evening was one more day my brother was still alive.
Now, I find I'm still counting. Every morning is one day further away from the worst day of my life.
People keep asking me if I'm doing okay and the answer is always no, there is no okay right now.
There's just going forward and finding distractions and not letting myself sink into the hole in my head. Okay will happen somewhere further down the road.
Ever since he was diagnosed last summer, I've been counting days. Every evening was one more day my brother was still alive.
Now, I find I'm still counting. Every morning is one day further away from the worst day of my life.
People keep asking me if I'm doing okay and the answer is always no, there is no okay right now.
There's just going forward and finding distractions and not letting myself sink into the hole in my head. Okay will happen somewhere further down the road.
