My brother died twenty-one years ago today.

He’s now been dead longer than he was alive (though I guess technically that rubicon was crossed in April or May; I am unsurprisingly loath to do the math properly).

I’ve long since gotten used to the world going on without him, though there was a time when it seemed inconceivable that it could. Inconceivable, and unfair.  Unfair that he didn’t get to live a long, full life, and unfair that I don’t get to share mine with him.  I’d have loved for my sons to have known their uncle.  #2 reminds me of him almost daily, from the roundness of his cheeks and the twinkle in his eye to the great joy he takes in, well, joy.

I keep meaning to scan some pictures of him.  The thought reminds me just how long he’s been gone.