My brother, George, was 16 years old when his life tragically ended. It was March 31, when he was shot in the head by a 'friend'. Two days later, in the early morning hours on April 2, 1993, he passed away. Those two days are a blur to me. I was almost 8 years old at the time and all I can remember is being huddled together with my family in the hall of a hospital. As one big mass we had a group hug as tears silently slid down the cheeks of every member present. All I could do is cry, as my brother lay in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.
George was the best big brother you could ask for. I looked up to him for everything, thinking that he could do no wrong. He would spend numerous hours with me, making me laugh, talking to me, playing outside, and the list goes on. I still to this day remember his smile that truly could brighten anyone's day. I remember his constant push for success, never being happy with anything but his best. I loved his open heart, always accepting all people as they were.
In my mind, I know that George is gone, however, I find that he still lives on today. He lives in me, in my spirit. Everytime I don't judge someone, everytime I strive to do better than before, everytime I brighten someone's day. He has instilled these things in me and I am truly greatful for them!