All my heroes are dying, John Lennon murdered in New York

Mamma Cass a sandwich in the toilet

Lou Reed drugs and alcohol

Bowie, cancer but kept discreet and unknown

Johnny Cash old age with some dignity

Woody Guthrie with sadness and humility

Dean Martin with style and coolness till the end

Groucho Marx with wit and humour that didn’t offend.

The loss of a personality is sad, the loss of family is grief.

My mother after years of torment

My father with sadness at not making 100

My brother with shock and anger for me

A loss of a loved one is always a loss but different for every one.

My mother because she loved me her troublesome middle child.

My father because he loved me but didn’t understand me.

My brother because I loved him although he annoyed the hell out of me.

My family perhaps a bit dysfunctional, but they made me who I am.

And I’m glad that I was a member, and I wish I had told them more, how much I loved them.