I just got back from a most incredible weekend at Ft. Stewart. I was so blessed to be there, and I feel like a bit of healing took place. Let me back up though.

Evan's unit just got back from their 15 month deployment. My parents went out to Colorado Springs for the Memorial Service with all of his unit back home. I can only imagine how emotional the experience was for them and Evan's fellow soldiers, but just listening to the stories my parents recounted back to me, even as I cried through them, part of me found peace.

One story I like in particular was one they told of their attempts at promoting Evan. Because of his skill, they wanted to make him a sergeant-Evan said no. They wanted to make him a team leader-Evan said no-but, they made him a team leader anyway. One day that they had training, one of Evan's soldiers was late(this is out at Ft. Carson), and the person above Evan tells him to just smoke the guy(chew him out, in effect). Evan proceeds to do just that-and feels so guilty that he later buys him a steak dinner and takes him to a movie-ah, just like Evan. We both got that guilt gene.

They also said that Evan was just fearless-that he absolutely had no fear. One time they were all hiking up Pike's Peak, and when they got to the halfway house, the people there recommended that they turn around-they were already up to a feet of snow. Evan insisted that they continue up the mountain. He was finally about waist-deep in snow when he was talked into going back down.

I find this so interesting because I am just about the exact opposite of fearless. I have many fears, some that are rational and some that are very irrational. Evan was the closest to anyone on this Earth in terms of DNA to me, and we are very different in that regard. My Aunt reminds me that it has always been that way though-when Evan was a little boy, and we were at the lake, he would beg her to go faster on the jet ski, and to do 360's, while I was begging her to slow down. She didn't know how to explain to me at my age that she had to go at a certain speed to keep the jet ski going straight. Yes, we have always been different in that regard. Evan, always the risk-taker, me-eliminating any possible risk whatsoever. But that's just the way it is-the way it always has been.

They also said Evan was one of the best and fastest runners in the platoon. Apparently he would say his favorite "yo mama" jokes as he passed one of his other friends while they were running. That's another thing-everyone mentioned to my parents how funny Evan was. Some couldn't even hold it together without laughing, they just said Evan was so funny-and his "one-liners" were often over people's heads. They said you couldn't be in a bad mood around Evan-that he always just lifted everyone's spirits.

I have recently gotten back into running, pretty often. I started with a 5K a couple weeks ago, and at that time, I can't even remember the last time I actually ran, but I have been working out pretty consistently. I have to credit my Aunt with this, but she told me one day a month or so ago that when she is in a cycle class pedaling, and she thinks to herself that she can't pedal any further, she pictures Evan in her mind and says to herself, "If Evan had the courage to get up and do what he did every day, I can keep going." And so she does. This has been most helpful to me as well. If I ever think that I cannot lift this bar again, I think to myself, If Evan can do what he did, I can lift this bar one more time. And I do. Dad said he has had the same thoughts. We draw on Evan's courage to carry us through when we think we cannot do it alone.

Dad said it was an emotional day, and that you could tell the soldiers were hurting and felt a bit awkward around them. He ended up sitting next to someone one of the days they were there, at lunch, and somehow sensed that he would be open to talking about that day that Evan died. Dad asked if he would mind if he asked some questions about that day they lost the 5. He said he didn't mind, and Dad heard firsthand from a soldier what happened that day.

I cried as I listened to these stories-I just couldn't stop the tears, and these soldiers are the closest thing to Evan as we have-they are the ones that were with him every day, and in those final moments. We will always be connected to them in that sense.

The seminar at Ft. Stewart this past weekend was incredible. I decided sort of last minute to go with my Mom. TAPS stands for Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, and it is a support organization for people who are military survivors. I met some incredible people there, other "gold star families", and we had different sessions and small groups on grief and losing a loved one in the military. I spoke to a general who I felt a strong connection to, and also several members of the Atlanta Rotary Club(they sponsored the event), one who is going to come and run the Memorial Race in June with his daughter. That just goes to show you just one person along the way who was so touched by Evan's life and our story, he is going to participate in one of our events.

Mom and I have decided to attend the National TAPS seminar in D.C. This is on a much greater scale-over 1000 people, multiple workshops, the President and other special guest speakers, and a Memorial Day Service at Arlington. Someone said this past weekend that people had wondered why she went to these seminars, and that it must make it worse to rehash everything-in fact, I cried most of the day on Saturday as I recounted exactly what happened to Evan and our relationship-but she also said it's connecting to others who truly DO understand, and it's like getting some of the poison out. Exactly-like getting that poison out. It's also something that is not going away-I realized this weekend that of all the people that were there, our loss was the most recent-people were there that had lost loved ones up to 15 years ago and longer-and it is something we already knew, but something I wish I could convey to people that haven't been through it, is that it will ALWAYS be a part of us. We will live with this loss FOREVER-as long as we have breathe, all of us. We will miss Evan every day for the rest of our lives. It isn't something that is going away. But-we will make sure he is never forgotten.

And to me, that's what gave me that little bit of peace I returned with coming home today. One thing I said in my sibling group, when asked how I "cope" with the loss, is that I made a promise to Evan from day 1: he would not be forgotten. That as long as I am breathing on this Earth, people will know. I wear my pin because I want people to ask me about it, and give me the opportunity to tell them what a sweet, brave brother I had. And all I can do is continue to do that every day for the rest of my life, until I finally see him again one sweet day.