Today is the third anniversary
of my brother's passing.
I think of him -- and miss him -- every day. There is an Antwyon-shaped hole in my heart that can never be filled.
But as I sit here, listening to my niece and nephew giggling and being silly with the baby, the hurt is less raw, the ache less intense. I see him in their faces, with beautiful dark eyes and gorgeous long lashes, and I'm comforted. Though life will never be the same, it is still good.