[webjac]

I lost my brother in 1999.

I was 15, he was just 5. He was fine, healthy and then got chickenpox.

He was doing fine and in a matter of 24 hours he was gone.

I miss him a lot… it was extremely hard. The missing part never goes away, but it does get better, little by little. Honor their life, remember them, live a life that would make them proud.

Talk to them when you're by yourself. They somehow still live inside you.

The pain feels like it will never go away, but it will, I promise you it will, work on letting it go. They would want you to be happy.