That first time my brother was murdered...
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That first time my brother was murdered...
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My parents were high school sweethearts in Woburn Massachusetts, just outside of Boston. At 17, my dad (lied about his age, in the era you could get away with that) joined the Air Force and lived in the Sahara Desert. By the time he came back, my mom married someone else and moved to the West Coast. My dad then also married someone else. My mom had two sons and a daughter with her husband. My dad had 3 sons and a daughter with his wife. Both marriages ended, sending both my dad and mom home to Boston Massachusetts. They got back together and had me, their one and only child together. Out of all my siblings, Bobby was closest to my age and he was ten years older than me when he died June 4, 1984.
I still, over 40 years later, miss my brother and think of him often. Grief does not cease... it merely changes form.