Member-only story
Through My Brother’s Death, A New Life Emerged
There were many costumes, but only one that was the perfect fit
“Michael is dead. You need to accept that.”
The words were blunt and rang in my ears. Michael is dead. But how could he be? He was here this morning. I saw him.
Well, I think I saw him. It was a different Michael, that was for sure. But people change. Celebrities, models, musicians change their looks more often than I change my underwear. Which is at least a few times a week.
Michael had a new look. I didn’t like the look. I hated the look, to be honest. But I was used to that. Michael had gone through many looks, a never-ending wardrobe change.
“Ashley. Do you have anything to say?” my mom asked me.
It was a serious situation; hence she called me Ashley. The name she used only in serious times. Like when I took $5 from her wallet. Or didn’t do my homework. Or I guess when my brother had died.
I looked up.
At my parents, their eyes red. I looked at the psychologist. Or was she a psychiatrist? Maybe a counselor. I looked around to see if there were any degrees or certificates on display. There were none. Was she even licensed?
