Four years ago today my dear brother Cullen lost his life in an automobile accident. I find myself surprised yet grateful that this news doesn't tear through me like a lightening bolt of anguish. Because until recently it has. But not today. It still seems wrong that he is no longer among the living, that I can't pick up the phone and call him. It is a relief that the anger has fallen away. The anger toward the young woman who lost control of her vehicle because she was distracted by her phone or what she was eating and caused the accident. The anger toward the cruel randomness of the universe that placed him there on the highway at that fateful moment. When I came down the basement steps this afternoon I shouted aardvark! toward the canister holding his ashes. And smiled. I miss him. But I know it's much harder for Pam, she lost her much loved partner in life that day. In Cully's honor I do my best to live with integrity and honesty and kindness each day. Happy memories of him are much farther forward in my mind these days than the sadness because he is gone. So, Greg, if you are reading today, remember this. It gets easier. I promise it does.