Or rather, I started crying, because I didn’t have the courage to let myself cry all the way. These past few months in therapy have been some of the hardest I’ve ever had to face, because for the first time, I’m talking in depth about how much my brother’s illness has affected me since he was diagnosed almost eight years ago. At the same time, I’ve discovered how that pain, which I thought had already healed, has manifested itself in the rest of my relationships and my daily life. How the pain of loss, illness, and the possibility of watching...