My brother, Johnny, died at age 23 of cancer.
For years, tears would roll down my checks whenever I saw someone who reminded me of him, until someone very wise asked me if I could still picture how he looked. "Yes," I said.
He then ask me if I could hear his voice, see his smile. "Yes I can," I felt the pleasure of this vision.
He continued to ask me if I asked Johnny a question do I know what he would answer. Thinking long and hard, and seeing Johnny in my mind's eye, hearing his voice, seeing his crooked smile, I responded, "Yes, I do know what he would answer."
Then, he replied, "Your brother is always with you. You can see him, hear him and talk with him anytime you want."
I have never forgotten that moment. I love you Johnny. You are... always with me.