I know there will be a morning when I wake up and don’t think of my brother. But it’s not today. I don’t know when that day will come, or if I want it to. What does it say about us when we begin to accept someone else’s sacrifice? When we begin to forget. Is it natural, the way things should be, all ordained and right in the flow of life? Or is it a betrayal to their memory? An injustice.
