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.
The things that remind me of you
Like Mountain Dew
Cut through my heart