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Eric is dying, after a long battle with cancer he is waiting, we are waiting with him as he struggles with each breath to reach his last. That is what we do, isn’t it?  We are all just waiting.  In the room next to his we gather and share stories, knowing that he can probably hear as he slips in and out of consciousness, hear us whisper, laugh, say his name and then the obvious silence.

He is a simple and good man, my husband’s brother, two years older than me and my favorite brother-in-law. He is kind and unselfish. He is not a shooting star, or even a star, but he is steady, like a small airplane light that throbs across the sky in the night now soon to be out of sight.

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