My little brother Ross has collapsed and isn't expected to live out the week. He's fought a real battle, having been told that fourteen months ago, but this time it looks like the battle is really going against him. We're (parents and brothers and sister and others) flying and driving tonight and tomorrow morning from all around to be with him. Prayers for him, his family, our parents, and us, would be appreciated. Thank you.
The message comes to late sometimes. Only his twin, living forty miles away, was able to hug him, the rest of us will be arriving early for the funeral. Ross wanted three things: all of us together again, to see his son graduate from high school, and to finish his master's. Christmas 08, last Friday, last Saturday. Love you, Ross.
Thank you, again.
by William Ernest Henley; 1849-1903
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.