Tragedy. I never really knew the meaning of that word before.

I was lucky enough to have one brother by birth, Karl. In Floyd I was lucky enough to get a second brother. This morning came the news that I had lost both of them, and my niece had lost not only her father, but also her favourite uncle.

When I learned on Sunday that they were missing at sea, I was horror-struck.  But I hoped for the best – they were wearing life jackets, there were searchers out.  I woke up this morning after a night of fitful dreaming, feeling confident that some good news would come today.  At the worst, we could not lose both of them.  Not at once.  But the world doesn’t work that way.  Now there are only memories and a huge hole in my heart.

I am so thankful for the outpouring of support.  I always felt that those simple words – “I’m sorry”, or “my condolences” meant so little, were so utterly inadequate.  I was wrong.  While even the smallest wish might bring me to tears again, they were tears that made me feel a little less hollow.  I was always ashamed of my tears, but today I shed them with pride in memory of two people I loved, and the only shame I can feel is shame at my hesitation to shed tears for others, to shed tears in the past.

Karl, Floyd, I love you both.  I will miss you both.  Always.