When I arrived at the Flint, Michigan airport and exited my Delta air flight, I spotted my brother just outside the check-in area in the lobby.
We hugged, teased each other as brothers do and headed back to his home in Highland.
On the way back we stopped at my mother’s grave, ate a late lunch and within an hour arrived at his home.
Now living alone, my brother’s wife passed away a year ago, my brother (Rich) has comfortably set into his solitary life and seems quite content. His loss rears its head occasionally but he copes with it well.
His children, friends and fellow church members check in on him periodically. Mostly he stays at home, ventures out for an occasional meal, shops for groceries and supplies, goes to church and is satisfied living a quite life.
The next few days we talked a lot, caught up on old times, shared memories of past family and friends, remembered places we grew up around and that no longer exist and visited a few other relatives, ate out and enjoyed the quiet times two old men appreciate.
One day I was able to visit with an old high-school buddy. 
We walked around our hometown, stopped by our old high school, commented on how things had changed, stirred up a few memories and marveled at how time had passed so quickly.I brought my old high school yearbook and we mourned the loss of so many of our classmates. Before we knew it, the time was gone. He returned to his home and work and I to my brother’s home.
The day before I left to come home Rich and I visited my late brother (Dallas’s) family and his surviving widow.
His two grandchildren had grown up, his son was his spitting image and Dallas's widow was living with them in her own little apartment in the basement.
She spends her days watching TV, reliving her life with my brother, watching the birds outside her window feed and the deer and other wild animals make their frequent visits in the field outside her back door.
Barely three hours later Rich and I returned to his home, spent our last night together as siblings and wished we had more time.
The next afternoon, Rich and I ate brunch and all too soon he dropped me off at the airport.
As he drove away I felt the tears well up in my eyes, my heart ached and it struck me that I may never see him again-in this life.
I remembered growing up together, how we went our separate ways, the all-too-brief visits and the memories we shared.
It struck me how much I loved him and my faraway family and how I missed my wife back home and my kids and grandchild.
I swallowed hard as the memories rushed in and how God has blessed my life. I am so grateful for my family-both past and present.
I cherish the times, both in Michigan and Florida.
Looking forward I am content in the fact that I will grow older and like my brother and sister-in-law content myself with puttering around at home, relishing my kids and grandkid(s) and eventually passing on where I will be reunited with my lost loved ones.
Life has its moments, both good and bad. Dreams come true and sometimes they don’t. The only thing that does not change is change and that’s OK.
The past is both dead and alive. While I can never go back (nor would I want to), I still have my memories.
To quote Robin Williams as Peter Pan in the movie Hook, “To live… to live would be an awfully big adventure.”
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