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On June 15th I published the post, Not Inoculated; I reflected on the realization that although we had suffered a terrible tragedy, we were not protected from future sorrow. One week later, on June 22nd, my son, Nick, died.

If you’ve read my Tell it Well series, you know that Nick was born when I was a teen and I was forced to give him up for adoption. It was the late seventies and adoption was just beginning to change allowing more openness, sadly Catholic Charities was not at the forefront of that movement. The adoption was closed and I was devastated.

This is Isaiah. My mom will post something next week; she just can’t yet.

I don’t really know how to write this. It seems impossible that we could be going through this again. I found out last night that my oldest brother Nick died earlier this week.

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My mom had Nick when she was a teenager. Her social worker coerced her to give him up and he was adopted by a family on the East Coast through a closed adoption. They were reunited just over twenty years ago on June 13, 1995, shortly after I was born. She wrote about some of that experience in her Tell it Well series.

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