Non-Fiction – My Brother

Warning:  This is NOT erotic – not in the least!!!

Today is His birthday. My brother’s birthday. He’s been dead for longer than he was alive. He was 27, you see, when he was killed. That was in 1985. He wasn’t my biological brother. My parents adopted both of us, but we were just babies, so we WERE siblings despite the lack of genetics. Jesus Fucking Christ I miss him. I miss him because he would have been an absolutely fantastic uncle to my children. I miss him because I now have no one to share and talk about and blush about childhood memories with. I miss him because I have no fucking idea how to handle our mother who is now in the advanced stages of Alzhiemer’s. I miss him because absolutely no one can possibly replace a sibling.

He was shot. He worked in a gas station. At night. Alone. He was 27 years old, younger than my oldest son is now.

He tortured me as all big brothers do to little sisters. He protected me as a good big brother should. He annoyed the shit out of me. He loved me. He taught me. He teased me.

He should be with me now.

If this is wrong, may the goddess forgive me, but I offer this curse to the one who pulled the trigger.

May you never, through out all eternity, forget what you have done to him and to those who love him. May you burn with shame for what you have done. And may he whom you have stolen choose your just end.

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