"Now you listen to me," I must have been saying to Greg back when we were so very young in Toronto.
I can't even imagine the pain my mother must feel when she looks at these faded photos of our happy childhoods, childhoods long gone.
And now, not only are our childhoods gone, one of the children is gone, too... Gone. Never to come back again.
And that's what's so hard about the death of a loved one. You have so many things you still want to tell them, so many things to share that you catch yourself sometimes thinking, "Oh, wouldn't he like this," or "I can't wait to tell him that." But that's no longer possible.
Oh, how that hurts...