brothers raze i had a dream his body held a bomb that readied itself to blow up the whole world. he's the last person who would want to kill anyone. but there's usually truth buried in even the most outlandish dreams. something true was hidden in that one too. i'll always be mystified by how little life seemed to mean to him for so long. he was cracking jokes at his wife's funeral. and he loved her more than anything. we found a picture of their mother he'd never seen before. had it blown up and retouched and framed. when we surprised him with it on his birthday, he was so underwhelmed i had to hold myself back from grabbing his hand to see if he still had a pulse. i guess we all grieve in our own way. but i couldn't do that. if i lost someone who meant that much to me — if i had a mother half as good as his and the bottle took her away — i would be shattered. and nothing would ever make me whole again. my dad sent him a message saying how sorry he was to hear about the death of his friend. his response was a thumbs-up emoji. now they go for breakfast every two or three sundays and talk. "it's the closest we've been in years," my dad said. "and all it took was one of us finding our best friend dead on the bathroom floor." 221120 what's it to you? who go blather from