THIS IS FEBRUARY: THE MONTH TO PONDER ON LOVE

I wish to write about the first man I loved so much that many fallen short of him.

Age 12: I remember when I was busy trying to dress appropriate for an ice-skating party. Not only did you help me buy the clothes, but showed me what colors work for me.

Age 13: I recalled how we walked from our home to Lincoln Center, miles away. Not only did you try to patiently answer all the questions I had about life, but you told me I could change whatever I wanted.

Age 14: I remember taking the train and following you to a gang fight where you were the leader. Not only did I follow you, but I quickly stood next to you.

Age 15: I sadly remember seeing you cry when your girlfriend left you. You said if they are worth loving, they are worth crying about.

Age 16: I remember when you told me, you would not shoot women and children. You said it was their land and those women and children were not soldiers.

Age 17: I remember you saying, finish what you start and don’t start something you are not going to finish. You said you would be at my high school graduation, the first of many of my milestones.

Then you are getting ready to leave and I cannot take the train to get there. When will I see you again?  Do they know how far this is?

In between a young girl’s tears, I asked you, who can be more important than me. Who will dress me?  Who will walk and talk with me? Who will teach me how to fight with honor? Who will teach me about loving and crying?

It was then that you said, “We all stand for something.”

“I stand to be a soldier and you stand to be the general.”

“You will tell others what to do to improve our world, just like on our walks.”

“There are many more soldiers waiting for their generals’ orders.”

“I may not be back, so make sure you stand for something.”

I almost did not want to graduate because you were not there.  I almost cut off all my precious, long hair in protest. I almost walked lifeless for months because you would not be back.  I almost died from a life threatening surgery, and mom brought me your picture.

I want you to know I stand for something. Someone who always fights with honor.

You are my older brother who died in Viet Nam, and I cried for you most of all.