My brother, Justin was born in 1982. I was just 16 months old the day he came into this world. I don’t remember life without him until it happened, 33 years later. I was with him and his wife when he took his last breath.

During Justin’s almost two year fight with Germ Cell Cancer I came across an article about siblings. It said the sibling relationship is the longest one we’ll ever have. I felt so wronged when he died. I read stats; people Justin’s age have around a 1.7% chance of dying. I struggle with accepting and reconciling his death. I guess this is the messy work of grief.

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