A Marine, A Hero, My Brother
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A Marine, A Hero, My Brother
Laying my hotel bed at the Days Inn in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, I wondered if I would ever see my big brother again. Words can not express the feelings of emotions that were going through my head that day he deployed for Iraq, the feeling that one hopes they will never have to even consider in ones lifetime. For me that feeling came when I was in the tenth grade and my big brother, Jeffrey, was off to do bigger and better things.
Just entering high school I was finally starting to become actually close to my brother. He is five years older than I am, so we were just starting to transition from the sibling-rivalry stage to the civilized relationship that a brother and sister develop when they realize that no matter what family will always be there until the very end. Our conversations had just started to expand from “nice face, loser” to “hey, you want to catch a bite to eat?” That was not the only impact that my brother had on who I was and what I was to base this life on for the rest of my being.
Throughout life you are subject to hearing inspirational proverbs such as, “live life to fullest” or “you don’t know what you have until it is gone” but, as they are used so mundanely and you tend get older they to lose their punch. However, it is amazing how much effect a simple proverb can have until it relates to you on such a personal level. Some say that real people don’t get hit by lightning and suddenly realize that they should live their lives differently. I say bologna.
Having a loved one fight in a war is considerably almost as bad as dealing with death. Not knowing if my brother was ever going to see the people he loved, the room in our house that bears his name, or any other simple aspect of life that people take for granted, again, I wondered how