One-year anniversary of my brother death today, January 31, 2008.  I felt like my guts were being strangled by some unseen force when my dad, grandfather and I went out golfing.  Either my brother's spirit was tugging on me, reminding me of things gone past, or just my own horrid memories of my complete emotional breakdown when I visited his corpse at Mt Sinai hospital, with all the things that I wanted to say unsaid, because I wanted him to hold onto hope that he would make it--all sorts of stuff came flooding back.  On a particularly serene moment on the 6th fairway, when the warm sun was beating down and a cool breeze was blowing, in that quiet moment, I could hear my brother say "I miss you guys".  I had no choice but to say "I miss you too, Markee.  There's nothing I can do about it, and it sucks.  But I miss you too!"  On a particularly strong drive off the 4th tee, I asked "did you help me out there with that one, Markee?", sure that he gave me that little bit of extra strength.  A wonderful dinner at my grandparents' place followed, and, as we all reminisced about Markee, my grandfather brought up his departed loved ones--his father, his brother, his son and his daughter, the latter two whom were run over by drunk drivers.  His brother was killed in a B-25 bomber in WWII when weight was miscalculated and the plane crashed shortly after takeoff on its way to some bombing mission.  His daughter Doris brought tears to his eyes, as he remembered how she came to him in a dream after her demise, when he was feeling completely empty and worthless, as I do frequently, and, as he was considering taking his own life, she assured him that he was supposed to be here for something yet, which indeed he has.  Now, feeling better after a long, full, gut-wrenching cry, I plan to settle in and watch some mundane television before getting a good night's sleep, in the rest God restoring me to peace and health.  Bless you all!