Almost been 3 years since I lost the person who called himself my brother. Another calling from the fallen. I find a disturbed sense of irony in the fact that my young friend Errol is forever resting in a cemetery above the very shopping center we used to goof off at as kids. hearing the priest speaking as the body was lowered into the ground, seeing all 10 of his brothers and sisters crying. Seeing his mother and his oldest brother - who is a close friend of mine - just sitting there. Drawn up, blank faces which were sheet white in their shocked dismay. Looking into its twin sister's thousand-yard stare. Seeing the casket sitting in the ground with the old Quality Food Center sign looming in the background overhead. The ones I called family growing up, all of my old friends. The ones who really mattered, the ones who showed up. We all came together as a crew again, just for a moment. Just one moment.