For some reason, I could not talk about the actual day or moment of my brother’s passing without whispering. It was the strangest thing. I can talk very openly about the experience. But when I would actually say something about the moment of his passing, I would whisper.
I can actually talk about the moment without whispering now. It was bothering me that I was whispering. It is not a secret, I am not ashamed. Not sure what compelled me to whisper. Thank goodness at least that part is over. On to the next hang up.