It’s a question that plagues me often, the existence of the afterlife, and has since my parents died. A question I struggle with daily, mostly due to guilt. Because if we are truly looked upon, and those who’ve passed are able to hear us, my confession is this— I haven’t spoken a word to my brother since he died. Every day I wonder if he waits for word from me. And even with the guilt that he might be waiting, I can’t find the words. I don’t know if I ever will.
