“He’s gone.” Two little words altered my life forever. In my Washington, D.C. hotel room, I collapsed to the floor in grief. My 18-year-old brother had been killed in a construction accident. My honeymoon ended with a late night drive through mountains hazed with dense fog to come home for my brother’s funeral. I had not even been married for a full week. My first question, and one I sometimes still ask, is “Why?” That particular hurricane pounded…
