Brother

I was just thinking about my brother, Troy Gene Pennington.

He wrote me only one letter in his life, but one was enough.

You see, when I was in the middle east, during Desert Storm, I received his letter. I will never forget that moment.

My battalion was in a desolete area of sand and small gravel. There was constantina wire strung around the the individual gp mediums. Attempts had been made at foxholes, but ended up being shallow scraps into the hardpan.

I was walking back to the hooch. Troy's writing was so distinctive to me. He was left handed.

I stopped and opened it, there was a picnic style table near by that I sat down on. No one was moving about. It was cold. The wind was blowing lightly.

In his letter he wrote.

It is not fair that you are there and I am here. You have so much to live for, your wife and son.

If I could I would trade places with you.

I am going to die anyway, and you have so much to live for.

You see, Troy was HIV positive. He had AIDS.

But my brother would have traded his life for mine. Regardless of the circumstance, he would have done this thing for me.

As it happens, I eventually came home. In 1994, Troy died.

I misss my brother. I miss all that made him what he was and is to me.