Fourteen Years

Today it has been 14 years since my brother-in-law, Steve Curry, was killed by a couple of gutless cowards. One is dead. The other should be. In those fourteen years, his father has died, his children have graduated from high school, gotten married, and had children, and in December, his mother died. He didn't get to see his kids march across the stage and get their diplomas either from high school or the University of Oklahoma. He didn't get to walk his daughter down the aisle, or stand up with his son at their marriages. He didn't get to know the joy of holding his first, second, or third grandchild. He also wasn't there for his wife when her father was tragically killed in a car wreck. My brother also died way before his time and left two young sons and a beautiful wife to go through life without him. His death was from disease and not from terrorism. But his family has had to endure the same hardships of being without him. I miss them both.