Pablo and Me

My twin died when we were 18. I'm now finally learning how to live without him.

- Ben Sosa Wright

“Do you have any siblings?

People throw that question around all the time, along with other typical getting-to-know-you fare like “Where did you grow up? or “How do you feel about this season of Drag Race? It makes sense that others would treat these inquiries casually. After all, they're completely normal questions that provide context for who we are.

In 2014, my fraternal twin brother, Pablo, passed away suddenly from a heart condition at the age of 18. Since then, I never knew how to answer the siblings question. Even though there were only two options, choosing either one felt like lying. And the idea of being completely forthcoming made me sick.

Well, I did but now I don't.

I'd tried that answer before and I always found myself taking care of the other person's emotions afterward, as if I had put them through something by telling them that my brother died. Over time, I chose instead to compartmentalize my grief. Shutting down my emotions only ever worked for a day or two. I just couldn't find the words to describe my brother or the pain his loss brought. But recently I've been trying.

WHEN YOU GROW UP as a twin, part of your identity is fixed in the fact that you are one of two. Twins spend as much time as they do together because it's convenient: it can be excruciating trying to make new friends, so to have a best friend already, one who lives with you, is the world's greatest security blanket.