I lost my brother a year ago in August. I still miss his voice, his stupid jokes, his perfectionist ideology that drove me crazy. This summer I finished a fence to give me more privacy at my back deck. As I was building the fence complete with gate, I could hear my brother's voice saying "That's not how I would do it." His voice of perfectionism invaded my thoughts. I finally had to say "John, the fence is 'rustic not perfection.' and then I luaghed. What I am trying to get at, is that grieving never goes away. We may walk away from thoughts, and move on as they say, but the grieving never goes away. There are still things that I see that set my thoughts to shed tears. There are times when you will be thinking about something, and you want to call him only to remember he's no longer here to call. No! My brother died too young. Yes he was 74 but he had a way about him that he could be seen as someone in his thirties. Well rest John. Your fight with cancer is over and you fought well. I really miss you.