ABSTRACT
These are the words of a grieving child, me. Thirty-nine years ago, my little brother, Austin, died of brain cancer. He was my only sibling and I loved him more than anything. His death sent shock waves through our family, as we each attempted to cope with the loss in our own ways. Over the years, I have learned that my experiences of being a young child when this significant loss occurred are different than the experiences of my friends who were adults when their siblings died. This is not to say that one is “better” or “worse” than the other, simply different.
