It’s been a year since my brother died and I am not sure I’m any closer to having sympathy. It gives me pause to think that maybe I shouldn’t continue looking.

I am lucky to possess the level of awareness I have about who my brother was. The detachment from emotions surrounding him was easy given the impossible distance between who he was and who family wanted him to be. There was no connecting the two logically, so I saw no reason to invest in him emotionally. He was never going to change and although it is tragic, it was completely avoidable. But that isn’t the world we live in.

We live in the world where sometimes the bad guys win. In this case the bad guy was drugs and alcohol, and the loser was my brother. The stakes were as high as they get, but the outcome was rigged.

Remembering him is too easy. Remembering him at a time where he was healthy is next to impossible. I find myself seldom trying to recall him in any state.

We weren’t close. And that living, breathing fact is sadder than his passing ever will be.