My youngest brother was born when I was a mature six years old and I took care of him along with our mom. He was my "first child" in many ways. He was sickly as an infant and toddler and I enjoyed caring for and comforting him. As he grew up, he grew out of his poor health and had a normal childhood. Tragically, he was killed at the age of twenty-seven. That was almost twenty years ago and the pain and grief of losing him are brought back by the simplest of things that remind me of him.
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Copyright © G. Wasdin All rights reserved. Remember the song “Silver and Gold” and how it says that “everyone wishes for silver and gold?” It’s pretty much true but most...