Losing Your Only Sibling
And you’re the last one standing.
It appears that I will be the last one standing. My brother is dying. I knew this would eventually happen; one of us would go first. It was a matter of which one it would be.
I remember when the above photo was taken. I was 11 years old, and Kenneth was five. We were playing in the front yard in Fresno, California. A man came walking down the street with a pony…