The hardest thing about marrying off my brother was trusting his new wife could care for his multiple sclerosis.

I was five months into a new job when Mom asked if I could leave work early. There was finally news with Matt, and it was better discussed in person. Sitting on the same living room sectional Matt had fainted in front of that night — the “bad news sectional” where, in previous years, I had learned of mom’s breast cancer and Nana’s Alzheimer’s — Mom and dad said that doctors had found lesions on Matt’s brain. The tingling fingers he’d complained about off-and-on, which we had all long assumed were pinched nerves coming from football, were actually the warning sign we’d all been missing.

From then on, our entire family came together to take care of Matt.

Yet when it was time for me to welcome another person into our family, and turn over caregiver duties to someone else, I paused.

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