the hardest goodbye

This seems to be a season of goodbyes in my life.

Last month, I had to say a series of goodbyes to my best friends. It was the longest goodbye ever. But this week, I was forced to say the hardest goodbye. I said goodbye to my brother before he headed off to war.

I will say that I never thought I'd be sending someone I loved off to war. Regardless of the current climate in Iraq or whether or not I believe this is a just war we belong in (I don't, by the way, it's the liberal in me), this is my baby brother who I've sent off to a war zone where he has the potential to be hurt. Or worse.

I try not to think about the 'or worse' part because my fragile heart cannot handle it.

My brother and I are close. We are 3 years apart (2.5 for 3 months out of the year) and while I am older, I cannot imagine a time in my life that he is not a part of. He's always been there. In fact, one of my earliest memories is of taking him home from the hospital.

And while I could not even begin to guess what his favorite song might be or the last movie that he saw, I can tell you that his eyes are the most lovely shade of blue/green which I am insanely jealous of and his eyelashes go on for miles. I can tell you that he is far more stubborn than I am. I can tell you that he is one of the most generous people that I know.

He is my polar opposite. If we didn't look alike, I wouldn't even think we were related. He is an extreme extrovert. He attracts people everywhere he goes. He's never met a stranger in his life. I admire him for so much that and wish I could be the same.

I call him b-wonder, short for boy wonder. How or why that nickname started, I do not know, it's been what I've called him for so long that the origins have faded. I do remember shortening it to simply b-wonder, sitting around my grandmother's kitchen table and how it's stuck ever since. But it fits. He's my b-wonder.

And now, my b-wonder is off to war.

When I had to tell my brother, my b-wonder goodbye, I told him that I loved him. I told him to be safe. The standard.

Then I told him not to be a hero because he has to come back home to me.

I told him not to be hero because I'm selfish. I need him to be in my life - a constant, permanent fixture no matter how many days or miles separate us - and to walk me down the aisle one day in his uniform.

I told him not to be hero. But the thing is, he already is.