2006 must end. Now.

General consensus among my friends is that 2006 is a year that needs to conclude. I know few people who'd say they lived a good year; we're ready for 2007. Deaths, break-ups, divorces, illnesses and all-around ugliness defined these 12 months.

And they just hit the lowest note yet, at a pitch that could very well empty what holiday cheer the people involved have left.

Last night the local news broke in with word of a fatal fire on Columbus' West Side, which claimed two lives: a handicapped man and a 62-year-old woman, his caregiver. It was a group home and apparently the man’s roommate started the fire.

Combine a lighter with a coat and then two people die. What an awful recipe.

Say what you will of our society, but as a rule, we do a solid job of protecting our most defenseless members, the handicapped, the children and adults who will never have the chance to grow up. It can be as simple as supporting an MRDD levy, but it's critical for these poor folks. It compounds the tragedy in this case, because we know the poor guy could not help himself.

I shook my head at it - a tragedy, and right before Christmas. Then I thought little of it until I noticed a repeat phone call from my friend in South Carolina.

The dead man was our friend's brother. I never met him and only knew him through pictures. All I knew was it could only be the most devastating night possible for his family.

This isn't solely because my friend’s brother died. My brother Joe is also handicapped and narrowly avoided death on numerous occasions, from a near-drowning in the MRDD school’s pool and several ferocious seizure states (basically, the seizures knock him unconscious, and he remains so until the next one. It usually takes a controlled overdose to knock him out of it). The same seizures led to a half-dozen zipper-patterned scars on his forehead and scalp.

Joe's had it rough, but he's still here, and still greets me with smile when I visit my parents, then leads me into the bedroom to flip over one of his Sesame Street cassettes.

Now I wonder how did Joe grasp that little bit of extra luck, enough to hold onto this life, when my friend's brother didn't.

Some days it's hard not to get mad at God.

My friend and I only discussed our brothers once, on our long return trip from the Louisville Tom Waits concert. We dealt with how their conditions shaped us as people, with regard to tolerance and what we missed (my brother and I never played catch with a football in the backyard; the cards fell that way, and there's no regret). I worry how this awful business will shape him, and hope he will persevere the worst and emerge stronger.

It’s been green – downright tropical– this Christmas season, but right now it couldn’t possible feel colder.