Sometimes you just can not know when you are looking someone in the eyes for a very last time. August 1st marked one year to the day that I saw my older brother in person before he died. On the last weekend of July 2010 almost my whole family, and it's a big family, came to see Jessie and I get married here in Ohio; everyone checked in to the same hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn. It was an absolutely amazing time. As the wedding weekend came to closure we all said our farewells to one another, and what stands out most in my mind about that morning, even though this might be a fabrication of my memory, is the intense brightness of that day; I do not remember a single thing I said to anyone, but I swear those sunbeams bounced remarkably off the marble floor of that hotel lobby. "A luminous recollection." I can not help but to wonder, even amongst the excitement of that weekend, if my face lit up even the tiniest bit more than it already was as I laid eyes on my brother and hugged him goodbye. Did our final expressions correctly capture the brotherly affection that compounded over twenty five years of life together? The insignificant instances of today can quickly become tomorrow's treasures. Sometimes you simply don't know when your last time is to look into someone's eyes; my moment was at a Hilton Garden Inn...
