{Sixteen years}

Today marks the sixteenth anniversary of my brother's death. I was only 12 (almost 13) when he passed away. At times it seems as if I never had a brother; as if it's always just been me and my parents. But then I remember little things about him; about our life together as a family of four. I miss him so much today. I miss my parents so much today. I can't help but wonder if my brother and I would be friends as adults. If we would get along and hang out with each other as so many of my friends do with their siblings. I wonder if, by now, I would have a cool sister-in-law and nieces and nephews (and I'm pretty sure I would).

I wonder if my brother looks down on me on occasion and shakes his head and laughs at my silly antics and stupidity. I'm sure he does. He'd always make fun of me in life, I'm sure he's the same in heaven.