“I went to Whitecloud today, Jarod.”

“Was it your first time since . . . ?”

“Yes.  Since my brother died.  I saw that you’d been there.”

“I . . . didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t want the Centre finding his . . . his body.”

“Shhh.  It’s alright Jarod.  Don’t apologize.  He would have loved it here.”

“I just hope that. . .”

“I hope so too, Jarod; that our brothers have found peace.  Together.”

The line went dead.

Outside, twin crosses stood side by side, surrounded by flowers, both bearing the same epitaph:  “A Brother Missed.”