It will be 6 years tomorrow.

Six years since my big brother died suddenly.

Death is a bitch.

There’s no negotiating, no promising something, no potential left.

It’s just over.

The clock stops.

Time runs out.

In my deep grief moments, an acquaintance, in her trying-to-be-helpful voice said, “Well, his life and death has to mean something. What do you think it means?”

And I wanted to punch her in the face.