The Silence is Rest

My half-brother was found dead in his fetid apartment in England today. He had been dead for several days. I never met him; he did not learn of my existence until seven years ago. I only spoke to him during two endless long-distance phone-calls where I mostly listened in helpless bewilderment to his incoherent grief, rage and despair.

But blood goes deep. Blood goes beyond knowledge. I am diminished by his loss, the current loss and the ongoing loss that was the final two decades of his life.

This isn't why I haven't written for nearly two months. It is why I have little to write today. I will endeavour to do better.