When Dean died, my world went gray.
I remember the moment I first heard the news. Mom sat me down in the living room. Tears streamed from her reddened eyes, her lips trembled as she tried her best to explain to me, a nine-year-old at the time, that Dean would not be returning home…
I didn’t believe her at first. I got angry. I threw a fit and cried and screamed and kicked and yelled. But then it really sunk in…big brother Dean was not coming home…not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.
The pain of this loss wrenches my heart.