Yesterday I received a call that my beloved brother, Dale, died of a massive heart attack Wednesday morning. 
He definitely had an advantage in that his death was quick and he didn't linger in pain. That's good for the one who is dying, but not so hot for the folks who have to remain on earth after the death.
I find that most of my tears are for me and my family, who have to carry on without his loving presence. I do not cry for my brother. I know he is with my mother, father, sister and his son—who all passed before him. I know he is in a much better place. But those of us who remain here, our hearts are broken 
and a hole is left in our lives.
The timing of his death is difficult too since my niece (his granddaughter) is getting married next month. Everyone was coming in from around the country for the wedding. Now we have a funeral to plan.
At my sister's funeral several years ago, she asked for a particular story to be read. I'm putting a copy here in honor of my brother.
"In the bottom of an old pond lived some grubs who could not understand why none of their group ever came back after crawling up the lily stems to the top of the water. They promised each other that the next one who was called to make the upward climb would return and tell what had happened to him.
Soon one of them felt an urgent impulse to seek the surface; he rested himself on the top of a lily pad and went through a glorious transformation which made him a dragonfly with beautiful wings.
In vain he tried to keep his promise. Flying back and forth over the pond, he peered down at his friends below. Then he realized that even if they could see him they would not recognize such a radiant creature as one of their number.
The fact that we cannot see our friends or communicate with them after the transformation which we call death is no proof that they cease to exist."
by Walter Dudley Cavert, "Remember Now," © 1944, 1971
Reverend Claudia and the critters... 
Dale Barber 1931-2009
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(and my partner, Arleen) 
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