My younger sister Erin should be turning forty-two today. Our birthdays were separated by one week on the calendar so it was always a bond we shared. I used to see her birthday as the beginning of a countdown to mine. Now if there was one week out of the year I could choose to be knocked unconscious for and miss completely, this would be it. I hate it.
Which kind of grief do you think would be worse to live with: The pain of what you’ve lost or the pain of knowing what you’ll never have?
