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Left to right: My brother Darryl, holding my little brother Dan, my sister Jenny, my brother William in plaid, hiding behind me. (Not pictured in this photo is my oldest sister, Barb.) I’m guessing this was taken in the fall of 1974, because Dan was born in June of that year. Which would make me 4 years old, William around 6, Darryl about 18, and Jenny about 17.

Darryl passed away in December of 1990, when he was 34, of cancer. Jenny passed away unexpectedly seven months later, in July of 1991, when she was 33.

Darryl used to bring his records over to play them on my mom’s stereo when I was small. I remember lying on the carpet under the upright piano, with my head right next to the speaker, listening to Pink Floyd.

Jenny used to paint my nails, and I’d go out into the front yard and spin in circles with my arms stretched out to get them to dry. I remember sneaking into her room when she was gone to try on her platform shoes.

They’re both buried in a cemetery in Washington, and I used to go visit their graves on Memorial Day weekend when we lived in Seattle. Mainly because Jenny’s birthday always lands near it. She was born on May 28, and she’d have turned 51 this year.