My brother would have turned 37 today.
What if my brother had lived? What if he had not died when he was 19 and I was 21 (I am now 39)?
My life would have been completely different. This notion frightens me sometimes.
I love my current life. But I, still, occasionally, long for the alternate one wherein my brother lives, loves, studies, works, laughs, talks, has a family, has my nieces and nephews, has my back when it comes to our parents, just “gets it” …
To paraphrase Shakespeare: “Grief alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken”.
What if … ?