BlazingEwe’s brother died last night.

He lay down and … just … died.

Thirty-seven year old brothers are not supposed to die.

If they do, we should be able to know how or why. There should be a car accident. Or hunting incident. They don’t lie down on the living room floor and die.

My best friend and I are waiting for that phone call to tell us that this is all a joke. A sick joke, but a joke, nonetheless. This isn’t real. Younger brothers don’t die first. They still have all that uncle-ing to do. And they still have to be a brother as your parents get old. And now who will she make jokes with about dad getting crotchety and mom getting silly? Who will help her remember the pecan tree in the front yard? And picking up sticks in the back yard?

Someone please call and tell her that they made a mistake.

UPDATE:  The phone call came.  There is no mistake.  But now there is a reason.  He died of a massive heart attack.  How does a 37 year old man die of a massive heart attack?  There is barely any solace here.