“Can you tell me about my brother?”

I stepped aside and let him in.

For the first time in years, I opened the old photo box.

I showed him Lucas’s drawings from kindergarten. The spelling trophy he had won. Pictures of him smiling in the backyard.

I cried while telling those stories.

But this time the tears didn’t feel like they came only from pain.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like something inside me was finally beginning to heal.