Grief has a way of making us focus on the ending. But lately, I've been trying to remember the middl…
Grief has a way of making us focus on the ending. But lately, I've been trying to remember the middle—the moments when my brother was simply... my brother. There was a time when we were inseparable. He understood me in a way very few people ever did. Then mental illness changed so much, and distance grew between us. For years, I carried guilt over all the conversations we never had. Lately, I've found myself talking to him again. Sometimes it's through memories. Sometimes it's through music. Somehow, those moments have brought me a little closer to him. But today, I don't want to remember the distance. I want to remember one of my favorite days. Before we left for the Highland Games, he handed me a pre-roll with the biggest grin and said, "Wake and bake, sister... wake and bake." So we did. We wandered the Highland Games laughing, completely out of it, taking in the music, the kilts, the bagpipes, and everything around us. It was one of those perfectly imperfect days that becomes part of your soul. That's the brother I want to remember today. Not the illness. Not the distance. Not the regrets. Just my little brother... laughing, teasing me, and making sure we had the best day together. Those are the memories I'll hold onto. I love you. I miss you. And every now and then, I can still hear your voice... "Wake and bake, sister... wake and bake."
