So surreal.

We leave Monday. We will be in Lima all day and catch the red-eye to Houston, arriving around 6:30 or 7:00 am Tues.

I dreamed about Mike all last night (my mother did as well it seems) and I awoke this morning asking myself, "Is this real?"

I have heard this expressed before, but now I feel it personally - I can't believe I won't ever be with him again in this life.

My brother. My only brother that I have ever known. The guy who used to tickle me until I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe and would finally have to kick him to get him to stop. The brother who upon being asked to clean the kitchen by mom would meet me as I came downstairs and say, "Heather, Mom wants you to clean the kitchen today." The brother who would take me to the pool during summers and scare me with stories of aliens when our parents were out. The brother who, when we would take our family vacations to the beach, wouldn't let anyone help on his sandcastle - engineered especially by him and built meticulously with his own two hands. The brother who when mom took us to Disney world when I was 12 and he was 20, begged and begged and begged her to buy him a musical Micky Mouse watch. He just had to have it. The brother who always reminded me of how much he had always wanted a little sister and during his eighth year, I bounced into his life. And he never wished it to be otherwise. Amazing.

I never once felt like I was a pain to him, although I know I was. He would get frustrated with me - having an 8 year age difference aided in some interesting encounters. But I probably spent more time being frustrated with him. The tickle torture will do that to you. But Mike was patient with people. He longed to love and to be loved.

And he struggled. Tremendously. But who doesn't struggle. I have been encouraged as I have been hearing more of what was going on with him in recent days. He had actually led someone to the Lord in his apartment complex. I remember being with him in the neuro-intensive care unit ten years ago waiting for word on my mother who had fallen and suffered a severe head injury. Mike was talking to the other people in the waiting room, finding out their stories and after a day or so together, he was telling them about Jesus.

My kids loved Uncle Mike. Maybe because he could play with them on their level - maybe because they knew he had no expectations for them. He was just fun.

So even though we only saw each other, maybe once or twice a year, and we never talked on the phone, I miss him. Though our times together were infrequent, we could pick right up with one another when we came together. I loved him and, I knew he loved me.

So thank you thus far for the thoughts and prayers. I am grateful to be able to go home and grateful that John can go with me. In fact, he has been asked to do the funeral. Please continue to pray, especially for my mother and my niece and nephew.

I wish this wasn't real.

But it is.

My God, be our comfort and be glorified.