Growing up with grief

My older brother died 25 years ago.

I was ten years old. I grew up with grief.

All week I expected that the anniversary would hit hard. When someone you love has been gone a long time, you get used to the strange, unpredictable nature of anniversaries. Sometimes another year passes by without great sorrow; instead there is gratitude for the good of life. Some days wallop without reason, bringing anger or anguish, tearing open wounds you thought had long scarred over.