There is something about this time of year that always tugs at my soul.
When I left Alaska back in 2016 I knew that mid-August into September would always make my heart ache for my first home.
There’s something that’s a mix of magic and poignancy about the way the tundra begins to turn cranberry and the leaves go from verdant green to an olive that foreshadows the yellow to gold to bronze soon to come…
Read MoreMy brother would have been 44 yesterday.
It’s the fourth June 13th, ‘Brent would have been _ today,’ that has passed without him here. Since we lost him at 39, I’ve often written about how he’ll remain forever 39 in my mind and how strange it is to carry on aging without him passing through the number first.
40. 41. 42. Soon 43. These are all numbers I’ve experienced without him, and I don’t really know what to make of that. It just is.
Read MoreCarrying an invisible wound inside of yourself isn’t easy. When I lost my brother in 2016, I walked around for a long time afterwards feeling like half of my lungs had been ripped out.
I looked whole on the outside. Perhaps if you looked in my face you might see the stress lines and grief in my eyes, but otherwise my appearance showed nothing to indicate the deep suffering I felt inside.
Read MoreMy brother would have been 43 this week. His birthdays are a strange event for me.
Every year that another one passes; I move further down a timeline without his physical presence and wonder who he would have been if he’d lived to see that age.
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