A brother I will always miss.

Though I never met him, I often think about my older brother, the brother no on has ever told me about. His absence is a presence in my life, a shadow that follows me, especially as his death anniversary approaches. I've heard about him from my aunt she tells me not mention about it to my parents and Never tell them that I know this, he died in 1 hour after he was born. though I never see him never met know nothing about him, I know It's a strange and poignant feeling, to miss someone you've never known, but I do, I miss him every. Single.day, no one knows what's the actual date he died, they say it was maybe July or August, but not confirmed.

I imagine what it would have been like to have him around – the conversations we might have had, the things he could have taught me, the bond we could have shared. His life was brief, yet his impact is enduring. 

As his anniversary nears, I find myself reflecting on the brother I never knew but deeply miss. I always thought that why this time of year always brings a mix of emotions sad one. It’s a time to honor and remember a brother I never knew but somehow feel connected to. His life, though short, continues to touch mine in ways words can't fully express. His memory lives on in the hearts of those who loved him, and through them, he lives on in me.

I was born ten years after his death, and despite the significant time that had passed, I miss him deeply. It's a feeling I rarely share with anyone, but it's always there. I cry a lot, missing him, and as I write this, the tears come again I cry every single day for him I miss him I just....miss him so much I can't express in words. I never knew someone could miss someone they never met so profoundly until now. If he had been with me, I wouldn't have to suffer the way I am now. Though I have a younger brother, I'm not close to him. There's a void that my older brother could have filled, a bond I long for but never had the chance to experience.I often imagine how different my life would be if he were here. Maybe he would have been the one I turned to for advice, the one who understood me in ways no one else does. His presence could have brought a sense of comfort and companionship that I desperately miss.

He was here for just one hour, and yet his absence has left a void that nothing can fill. I think about all the moments we could have shared, the laughter, the support, the unconditional love. Instead, I'm left with a lingering sadness, a grief for a brother I never got to know.

In my heart, there's a space reserved just for him, a place where his memory lives on. In my mind, I imagine the moments we could have shared, the brotherly bond that never had the chance to grow. In my life, his absence is a presence that influences everything I do, every feeling I have. Writing for him brings a bittersweet solace. It's a way to honor him, to acknowledge the profound impact of his short life. Though he's not here with me, he will always be a part of me. His memory is woven into the fabric of my being, and through my words, I keep him close.

This life, my life, is forever entwined with his. Even in his absence, he is with me, in my thoughts, my heart, my soul. For as long as I live, a part of me will always belong to him.

As his death anniversary approaches, the pain feels sharper. It's a reminder of the brother I never got to know, but whose absence I feel so deeply. The love our family has for him is something I carry with me every day. His memory is a part of me, and I honor him by keeping that memory alive in my heart.

"I love my brother, I always will and I miss him. His little sister is not good enough but I will try for him for our family I will do everything he left behind...."🤍