My joyful, bright, freckle-faced younger brother was voted “Joe High School” in his yearbook. Less affable, more opinionated, I was voted “Most Likely to be Heard.” But decades later, no noise could stop the addiction Matt developed to prescription OxyContin. I pushed him to rehab; he said he hated me. After his fatal overdose in May 2020, I begged him for a sign that he didn’t hate me. On his birthday, I found the message he’d written in his yearbook: “Jen … thank you for believing in me … I love you.” When I cried out for my brother, I know he heard me. — Jennie Burke
Real Life of an MSW 
My mom had five children. Only the oldest and the two youngest grew up together. Me and my only brother grew up with our father people, different fathers that is. As adults we are still not close. My closest sisters are those that I served with, pledged with, and that I’ve met in different walks. I met a few young women on Facebook and we are now true sisters. Been over 10 and some 15 years and we still cry with each other.
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That is the beauty of adulthood: we get to choose and create the family we want.
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