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Phil is my brother that died some years ago. I miss him and think of him often. We did many things together like working on cars, playing chess, and just visiting. Phil was always there to help if help was needed. You could always call him if you needed something. If he had it, he would share. If you needed someone to talk to, he would listen. If you needed help digging or roofing or moving or anything, Phil was there first and left last. He would always help, and seldom did he call for help. Phil understood most of us better than we understand ourselves. And even with that understanding, still loved us.
I miss him.
After Phil died I was comforted because of a story that one of my brothers told me. Phil had been staying at home and many family members were taking care of him. Towards the end, when he was not lucid much of the time, he awoke once, and was completely awake and aware. Phil excitedly told my brother that God had prepared a room for him, and that he was waiting to get the key.
Now Phil has his own room in heaven, so I am comforted, even though I grieve.
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