September 21, 2011
I was sitting in my backyard, the temperatures surprisingly nice given the brutal and record breaking summer we had. I had spent the Saturday morning studying, had lunch and then mowed the yard. Nothing to do now but relax with satisfaction of a good day. Drink a beer, observe the butterflies, and periodically move the sprinkler. It was good. But then out of nowhere, unheralded and unanticipated, came the image of my brother. This was not reminiscing about good memories. This was the dirty and difficult process of dying. All the images, all the emotions, all the decisions, all the struggles. It's like they were yesterday. The waves keep coming over me again and again. I'm at a loss of what to do so I write.