Dear Big Brother,
I'd like to call you by name but I've never known it. I feel like you must know I exist some how in your heart. I think of you so often. You must feel my presence some how. I am thirty three years old. I've known about you since I was nineteen when my eldest son was born. My mother broke down crying so hard I thought she'd die of despair. It was so strange to see her sad at the birth of her grandson. She told me her story. It was her story of you. She told me how she became pregnant with you at 16 years of age. She told me about 1966. She told me how my grandpa hid her away in a convent with other girls "like her." She told me how she was put in a taxi alone and sent to the hospital. She told me about the mistake the nurse made. The beautiful mistake that allowed her to hold you for a stolen hour. She called you Daniel. She loved you. She loves you still. I love you too, brother, wherever you are.
Your Loving Sister,
Pamela
I'd like to call you by name but I've never known it. I feel like you must know I exist some how in your heart. I think of you so often. You must feel my presence some how. I am thirty three years old. I've known about you since I was nineteen when my eldest son was born. My mother broke down crying so hard I thought she'd die of despair. It was so strange to see her sad at the birth of her grandson. She told me her story. It was her story of you. She told me how she became pregnant with you at 16 years of age. She told me about 1966. She told me how my grandpa hid her away in a convent with other girls "like her." She told me how she was put in a taxi alone and sent to the hospital. She told me about the mistake the nurse made. The beautiful mistake that allowed her to hold you for a stolen hour. She called you Daniel. She loved you. She loves you still. I love you too, brother, wherever you are.
Your Loving Sister,
Pamela
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