"I heard a voice asking, 'What happens after the fire?'"

I was lucky enough to get a few minutes' visit with my sweet pal Angela Tuesday evening (thanks again for the chai latte!). Angela was a bridesmaid in my wedding 15 years ago, was at the births of all three of my children and is in every sense of the word a true friend. So naturally, she wanted to know how I am coping with my brother's death, five months later.

I'm up to about 6.5 minutes of talking about him before the tears come a-knockin'.

"When does that stop?" she asked, and I speedy-quick said "never."

But as usual with real-life stuff, it's more complicated; after all, I'm only five months out and some things have become easier, others even more difficult. I kept thinking about my answer, how I could have explained things better. And when I turned on Roger Daltrey's "Under a Raging Moon" on the way home from our visit, I found the words.

The fire still burns, raging through the pain
Blackening the promises, the tears and the rain
The fire will burn
'Til the wind begins to turn
And it all begins again

After the fire, the fire still burns
The heart grows older but never, ever learns
The memories smolder and the soul always yearns
After the fire, the fire still burns

(Like I said, Ange...never.)