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A dark, icy road. A sharp corner. A tree. Blackness.

A week of waiting. Hope.

Flashing lights. The beeping of machines. Hospital corridors.

Silence.

This is not what we will remember. We will remember a wedding, laughter, a matching suit and jokes. The wine that everyone loved, chosen by you. An afternoon tasting and asking for your judgment.

A walk through the sunny woods. A lunchtime drink in a country pub. More jokes. More laughter.

A day putting up a fence at the end of the garden. Sweating, swearing, laughter. More jokes. Brotherly banter that never ends, even aged 60.

That is how you will be remembered. And that fence? It’s still here.

Every time I walk through it I will think of you.