Death has a pro­found ef­fect on peo­ple. I know be­cause, like most peo­ple, I have ex­pe­ri­enced many re­ac­tions that peo­ple can have when some­one dies.

I re­mem­ber 1987 very well. A few months af­ter men­tion­ing that no one close­ly re­lat­ed to me had died, my broth­er was killed that Oc­to­ber. I re­call I was “tricked” to go to my par­ents’ home, and when I ar­rived, I saw many ve­hi­cles on the road­side. I thought my fa­ther had died. Af­ter all, he was 77 years old and was not al­ways at the peak of health.

When they said it was my broth­er, I could on­ly re­call my head strik­ing the ve­hi­cle’s roof. I heard my­self like some­one wail­ing in the dis­tance, and, in that mo­ment, it re­al­ly felt as if there were two sep­a­rate be­ings deal­ing with the shock and hor­ror of a sib­ling dead in his thir­ty-fourth year of life. The trau­ma of his mur­der has be­come more man­age­able over the years.