A few weeks back, I asked for your help with a problem regarding my brother's impending death on a thread entitled "Dealing with death denial." Again, thanks for each and every post. I was the one that requested the thread be closed and it was closed. (Thanks buddy.)

I did not want to post an Obit thread, but, I feel I must say what follows. Dunno why. I just do.

My brother was laid to rest yesterday. He was comatose for a few days, but he hung in there until Tuesday, Canada Day, like the true Airman he was for 31 years. All that flag waving and fireworks and such were for him and everyone like him.... just a regular Canuck that stood up and did his duty to make this country what it is.

He was laid out in dress blues with his first cap appropriately placed on the pillow. Canadian Flag to the left of the coffin, Union Jack and RCAF Flag to the right. A tank commander who fought from The Boot to Rome represented The Legion. A piper recently wounded 20km from Kabul played his final tune as he was placed in the hearse. (I teased the piper that he went the "extra mile" to be home to play for Bill.)

"Bill" was born January 9, 1944. His mother died July 20, 1945, from food poisoning after a lobster scoff to celebrate the eve of the due date of the twins she was carrying. The twins were lost as well. My old man was in England, training officer cadets at Aldershot when she passed.

Bill was taken by his maternal grandparents, whereupon my Gramma marched across town, walked into their house, scooped Bill up and marched back home, where he remained until Dad married Mum when Bill was seven years old.

Bill grew up in a rough neighbourhood, mostly a mix of Irish and French. Both endured subjugation in their old countries which continued to some extent in the new world. Bill learned to fight at an early age and it served him well in the coming years.

On October 20, 1951, Dad married Mum and Bill had a new family. At the age of seven, things were a bit rough. But, Mum's a saint and she endured. I came along on March 7, 1957, and Mum endured, as did Bill... hehehe.

My earliest recollection of my brother was walking to the street corner with him when I was about two years old. He was on his way to school and I didn't want him to go. I tried to run out to catch up with him in the street and he had to run back and grab me before I was struck by a car. He took a car bumper in the face for me.

He used to tickle me until I couldn't breathe. I hated that. And he used to grab me by the wrists and slap me in the face with my own hands. Prick. But, the day I managed to punch him and make his nose bleed, he smiled and said he was ever so proud of me. We never fought again.

He signed up in the Royal Canadian Air Force on July 9, 1961. At that time, in Canada, you could sign the papers at seventeen and one half years old for induction at eighteen without a parent's permission. It was at that point that he decided that he would throw himself into military life wholeheartedly. And he certainly did. He did not finish high school. That is the reason he never made officer. But, he made Master Sergeant; a rank which I understand does not exist anymore, which was at one time Flight Sergeant (I am not sure of the terms.) And, he had quite a career… from Germany (twice) to Cyprus to Sardinia to Alert, NWT (the farthest north in the world), to HQ Ottawa and HQ CENTAG Europe where he was in charge of security for both HQ facilities. In CFB Trenton, he was the heart of the hospital and Medevac services. He was for decades on call 24/7 for his country. He saw combat, peacekeeping and paperwork.

He was, in the 60's and 70's, one of the best skeet shooters in the world. His Browning custom made over and under with gold inlay is a tribute to him by Browning. It's priceless. Of course, while he was travelling the world, Dad was teaching me how to hunt. So, Bro was a bit pissed off when I showed him up in the bush with my old piece of crap. Kinda like tickling him back… hehehe.

Ya know, there are just tooooo many stories I could tell you about my brother Bill. So, I will end this by saying… Thanks, Bill, my brother, and a hero to me.

Drink lots of cold water and walk slow eh.