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An echo of love and loss, in the space between memories and silence.
In the Silence of My Brother’s Memory
In the quiet spaces of family, a presence that never left.
I didn’t grow up with you.
But I grew up inside the space you left behind.
My brother, Jeremy, died unexpectedly before I was born.
He lived for only a few months, long enough to be real but not long enough to leave behind more than a ripple.
There are no home videos, no hand-me-down toys, no memories of us playing in the yard together. And yet, I grew up with the sense that he was always there. Not with us, but in us.
The Photo on the Wall
His photo hung quietly on the wall, a baby in white, soft eyes gazing out.
As a child, I would stare at it for long stretches. There was something in it that felt different from everything else in our home.
Maybe it was the tenderness in his face, or the stillness that didn’t match the rest of the house.
We visited his grave often.
I remember standing beside Mum, watching her go somewhere else entirely.
She would fall silent, as if carrying words she couldn’t bring…
