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We made the best of our lives because we had to. Because we wanted to. We had families of our own, families that needed us, and we couldn't let them down. But in the end, both Micah and I also survived and succeeded for each other. I needed Micah's support as much as he needed mine; Micah chased his dreams because I did, and vice versa. And it wouldn't have been fair of either of us to have to worry about each other. There was too much else going on.
We didn't escape unscathed. Who could? Our sister's death hit us hard--not just her death, but all of the deaths, one after the next. Even now, any elation we feel at reaching a goal or overcoming a challenge is tempered by the knowledge that, aside from each other, our family won't be around to share in our joy. Even worse, our children will never know their grandparents or their aunt, and that, to us, is heartbreaking.
But still, we have each other. People ask me why my brother and I are so close. The reason is simple; it's the way it should be. The loss of our family alone didn't drive us together; we were always close, even as children. We keep in touch, not because we have to, but because we want to. And we don't only love each other, but like each other as well. My brother and I haven't had an argument--or even a disagreement--since we were little kids. He is, along with my wife, my best friend in the world. And, if you asked him, he would say the same thing about me.
My parents may have been crazy, but whatever they did, it worked.
We landed in Dulles, and made our way through customs. Micah and I, like everyone else, would be going in different directions. We strolled through the terminal, weaving through weekend crowds, until we finally reached the point where our paths were forced to diverge.
We faced each other to say good-bye, and when I looked up at Micah, the first thought to go through my mind was that I might never see him again.
It's a sad thought, of course, but honest. It had happened to both of us three times before. It's what I always think when I say good-bye to my brother.
"I had a great time," I said. "Like you promised, it was the trip of a lifetime."
"It was the best," he said. He set his suitcase down and smiled. "I'll give you a call when I get back home."
"You better."
He opened his arms and I went into them. And for a long moment, my brother and I held each other in the terminal, oblivious to the crowd weaving around us.
"I love you, little brother," he whispered.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"I love you, too, Micah."
