When you die. Or, really, when other people die. I'm not quite sure why I wasn't meant to have a brother for more than a few years at a time, but it really sucks. I was 17 years old when my brother died. He was 10 1/2 years older than me, and I was on the verge of adulthood. I was finally at the age where he wanted to hang out with me. I was finally getting to know him better. And then he died. Then a year later, Tim came into our lives. He wasn't Joe, but he was a good older brother when I needed one. And then I joined the Navy and moved away. I finally move back home, and after so many years, I finally had the chance to hang out with Tim and get to know him better, too. And then he died.
I really, really miss my brothers. There's so much that they haven't gotten to see, and so much more to come that they'll miss out on. And that really sucks.
Joe and Tim,
I think about you guys every day. I love you and miss you always. My heart aches today, knowing that I will never see you again. Hopefully, one day, our souls will cross paths again. Peace, love, and happiness to you both.
Love,
Your little sister
