I was the youngest of three kids. My older brother, Trevor, joined the Army right out of high school. He was always my hero, and it devastated our family when he was killed in Afghanistan. To this day, I have trouble accepting that he is really gone. Trevor was such a larger-than-life guy it just seemed impossible. It still seems impossible. I have dreams that he shows up and tells us it was all a cover so he could infiltrate some terrorist organization. Whenever I wake from one of those dreams, it takes me a while to accept my reality—a world without him in it.
I sometimes hear Trevor's voice, sardonically snapping me out of it when things seem rough.
My sister, Jeannie, is two years older than me. She went off to nursing school three states away, but she flew home to visit during the l
