My brother passed away lately. He is a musician and an electrician. He went to Vietnam and hated the hate and the insane violence. So he invoked his right to conscientiously object, before it was even a thing. Word. Throughout his life, no institution or culture or government ever really pushed him around for very long, because he was just too damn aware and stubborn to let that happen.
I don't think that he's really gone, because he infected so many people with his passion and ideas. Speaking just for myself, he'll be a part of me, in some way, for as long as I am breathing.
Sleep well, brother. I'm sure you're raising some type of hell on the other side because, well, I don't think it could be any other way.