A year ago this weekend was the last time I spoke to my brother. He was trying to say goodbye to me on the phone, though I did not know why. I told him I would see him the next day. We had just lost our father 6 weeks prior and so were both hovering around my mothers house on Cape Cod. I never saw him the next day. He was killed in a car accident that night. Luckily I told him I loved him as that night our conversation was on the heavy side in regard to the trials and tribulations of life. That was at about 9pm on a Sunday night. At about 11pm I was standing outside smoking a cigarette when I heard the sirens. At the time I did not know for whom the bells tolled. My brothers name was Tighe, pronounced like necktie but not spelled the same. In many ways he raised me and helped to form my earliest memories and observations in the world. I cant tell you how many times I see or experience something in my new life here in the mountains and almost reach for the phone to give him a call. Its only been a year. He would have loved it here. There is a farm up the street from my house for sale, and while it would be too much work for me alone plus a full time job, I cant pass the property without thinking of how we would have been able to work that parcel together with little difficulty. We worked very well together. There are some who claim a name to be "star children" for those who are treated to their first pass in life. While faith is a gift I have not been so fortunate as to have received (No, I don’t go to church, and I don’t want to go to yours) I do believe the notion of these so called star children best explains his existence for those who seek comfort beyond the physical. Must have been one hell of a release to let all that light out of such a confined space. Fly free my brother , 2nd star on the right and straight on till morning….