Another little pause. This narrative is going to take forever.

****
No one told me that one of the hardest parts of being a mother would be having to comfort my fourteen-year old son because his brother died two years ago on a dusty street half a world away. Matthew was with me when they came to tell us Thomas had been killed. Like me, he cannot forget that day or those men. Most of the time he keeps his grief well hidden, but sometimes it comes to the surface and then we mourn together.