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It was always a little weird growing up with my brother. He was born ten years before me, so by the time I was nine he was already off to college and having fun with his adult life. He seemed more like an uncle or maybe a cousin than a brother. That’s the way I always felt growing up. Looking back he was more of a brother than I ever realized. While he was busy with college and finals week, he always took the time to make it back home for my birthday parties. When I started to date, he always threatened to beat up my boyfriends if they mistreated me. He was the protective older brother that every little girl should have. More than that, he taught me a lot of things. My brother taught me how to fight. He loved karate, and when I refused to take classes he went out of his way to show me the ropes. He also taught me how to fish and hunt, even though I didn’t care for either one, I loved the time that we spent together. My bubby always made sure to spend time with all of us until the very end. When we found out my brother had HIV, we were all devastated, but we thought that with all of the new technology and medicine that he would still live a long, fulfilling life. Unfortunately, the virus had already progressed. AID’s wasn’t far off, and within months he was gone. In those few months, before he got sick, my brother spent time with all of us. He knew what was coming, and he made sure that he did everything he wanted to before that time came. He went skydiving, something he had wanted to do for years. He took my mom to dinner, and my father hunting. He was a good man, and an amazing brother. It’s comforting to know that he didn’t suffer much, and that he is in a far better place now.
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