No one is good at this
Somewhere on Medium I read that when siblings die, it’s like a piece of you is ripped away. My brother is not dead but it really does look like he’s on his death bed. So it’s like part of me is there with him, dying.
I try to get down to the rehab facility where he is now at least once a week. For the last three weeks I’ve managed to do that, meaning I’ve visited three times…