I had a dream last night. I wonder if I cried in my sleep, as I woke up with a splitting headache and wet pillow. I didn't even know that was possible.

Evan was stationed at a base somewhere, I guess in the U.S. because we were picking him up. We drove to the gate and back home several times to get him, unsure of what the problem was. Everyone else was picking up their loved ones, but Evan wasn't there. My parents finally went home, but I took off on foot to pick him up. I decided he was coming with me.

A very nice man greeted me at the gate, but this time he was walking towards me. I asked him if my brother was alive, and he told me yes, but he couldn't come home.

Evan finally came out. He told me he couldn't stay, that he had to go back, but he wanted me to know he was ok. I begged him not to go back, pleaded with him. I held onto him as tightly as I could, tugging and yanking his arm with all my strength, tears streaming down my face. And just like that, as quickly as he came, he was gone again.

I remember asking the man what was going on, and through my hysterical tears, I begged them not to hurt him. I don't know why I thought they would hurt him, but I was terrified something awful was happening. The gentle man put his hand on my back, and I collapsed in his arms.

Then I woke up. I was still tired, but I didn't want to go back to sleep for fear of another dream, so I forced myself up.

I woke up into reality. Just Mom, Dad, and I now, and a picture of Evan on the table in my parent's room at the beach. The waking is the hardest part- dreams about my brother are bittersweet. I love the feeling of being near him, and dreams are so real that I almost feel he's alive again, and then I wake up and feel like I just found out that my brother's gone again.

And I'm upset, and I'm mad- angry that my family has to go though this, jealous of the families that get their loved ones back from war, shocked all over again that an I.E.D. detonated in Iraq, and the person on the news this time was really my brother.

There's a saying that time heals all things. It isn't true. Time will never take this away. Time can heal many things, I am certain, but this is something time can neither heal or erase. I do believe that Christ can heal all things, and I am trusting him to do that.

But in that single moment on January 28th, my life forever changed.