Ours is a society focused on chasing happiness. We see it on the billboards that promise us joy in a beer bottle, faster car or better cell phone plan. We hear it on the radio in the light banter between songs.

Because grief has shaped my life, I've observed that to grieve for longer than what is considered "normal" is taboo in this environment.

I had a happy childhood as the middle child between my older sister, Sudha, and younger brother, Sharad. Sharad was my sidekick and partner in crime, always ready for a bike ride, a trip to the pool or to hang out and watch after-school specials on TV. We were the best of friends — more so after we immigrated from India to Canada in 1980.

On June 23, 1985, Sharad was flying to India for the summer holidays. He never made it. The plane he was on

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