Last night we had some friends over for the evening. We showed them around the house and along the way came across a picture of my family when I was a little boy. I think it's cute how much my children resemble me at that age (though I still swear my son looks like my wife's nephews). It was also a reminder of an anniversary as I looked at my brother's picture.
Tomorrow is the twenty-second anniversary of his death. My vivid memories of that day have faded into a few choice moments, but we still remember him at this time of year, much like the eldest brother in Zanna's Gift. I think that is why Thanksgiving is almost more special to my family that Christmas, because we remember how fortunate we are to have the chance to be together. Much like the wives who married in to the Pullman family, my wife has been able to appreciate how much my brother's life and death changed the relationship my family shares irrevocably. Because of some special experiences she has shared with me, I know she understands the bond my brother and I share. I have often thought of him as my guardian angel, and I know he has helped me get to where I am in more ways than one.
So in this season of Thanksgiving, I give thanks to my brother. I still miss him, but differently now, because I would love to know him as a grown man. I would love to hear his thoughts on the world today, on literature, and so many other things. For now I can make do with his pictures and his words, and the knowledge that we'll get to share our thoughts again some day.