Me and David on his birthday in 1977 or 1978, I think... Every year on this day, I celebrate the fact my big brother was born. And I mourn the fact that he isn't growing any older, since he died almost 15 years ago. Today, David would have turned 62. Sixty-two! An age that, when... Continue Reading →
There is something about anniversaries that seems to automatically set us up for disappointment, regardless of why the day is significant. The year marker of a lovely experience like a wedding, or a benign thing like a birthday, or an accomplishment like quitting smoking are wrought with expectation and memory: What if he doesn't remember? Will I get... Continue Reading →
This Thursday will be the first time that September 3rd falls on a Thursday in seven years. The cycle that bumps days of the week has made one full rotation. It was on September 3, 2008, that my big brother, David, went missing. I remember it all too well. It was on a mountain like... Continue Reading →
Anne Pinkerton 