The memory of Adam flying me from Auburn to Augusta to see Amanda in college, terrified that I was riding in a plane with my barely 20-year-old brother without our father present to help fly. I hope he knows now, after we landed safely, how he became a complete badass/genius in my eyes that day instead of just my witty little brother.
The memory of standing by my mother’s side when I was five years old, watching Molly emerge into the world. Or the whirlwind, less than 24-hour trip I drug her on to the Grand Canyon with me, signifying in my mind the day she became my friend rather than a child I wanted to help mother.
The memory of getting in Amanda’s car one winter afternoon, thinking we were about to go for a run together, to instead be the first to know she had become a mother, then nine months later, standing by her side as that child made her grand appearance into our lives.
The memory of watching Hayes on stage and later the silver screen for the first time, being mesmerized that he could so effortlessly transition into an entirely different person, wanting to shout out in the theater, “That’s my baby brother!”
The memory of all of them tenderly caring for our mother in her final days. Their strength and compassion did and will continue to inspire me for all my days.