Brotherly Love

I love my brother.

Even though we don’t verbally tell each other how we feel, he knows that I love him and I know he loves me. And while we’ve always had a good, close relationship, mom’s death has definitely brought us even closer I feel. After all, out of our nuclear family it’s just us now.

He called me last night to thank me for sending him something, and to chastise me for continuing to blame myself for mom’s fall last September. In short,  he read an earlier post where I once again questioned this.

He was upset that I feel that I maybe didn’t do enough or could have done things differently. He has constantly told me, just like my friends and family have, what an incredible job I was doing and had done as mom’s caregiver, and how much he appreciated it. He felt bad about me doing everything and always let me know that he was there for me and that I could call anytime.

I know he’s there for me as I am for him. That’s what family is for. But I also know this grieving process is going to take me a good long time.


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