When I left home to go to college, my youngest brother--Billy--was only eight. I remember how happy he was as a baby, how he rarely cried and always smiled. How willing he was to do what he was asked, how innocent and peaceful he was.
I remember him as a young boy, silly and fearless. Always ready to dive in the pool first or climb the tallest tree. And then he turned eight and I graduated from high school and moved away and began a life of my own.
I missed a lot of his adolescent years, I think, and then suddenly he was in high school and then graduated himself. And then he joined the Air National Guard and served two tours of duty in Iraq.
And then he got married and joined the Army and was deployed to Germany for a year or so.
And now he has two children and selflessly fathers them and loves his wife and serves his country. He is not a superhero; he is a real one. And I'm so proud of the man he has become.
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