My brother Michael died 22 years ago on this day in his prime at the tender age of 24 years old like James Dean. One always wonders how things could have been different without this senseless loss but there has to be positives that spring from a painful loss. I like to think my brother learned his worldly lessons sooner than the rest of us and shuffled off this mortal coil on his merry way to his next plane of higher evolution. I miss his chipped toothed grin and devilish ways and sometimes swear I feel his guiding presence looking out for his brother from that higher plane. Now go call your brother and have some fun just hanging out.
Michael Friesen 1962—1986
