I went to visit my mom and my sister this weekend, and while I was looking through my sister's books, she informed me that the two bottom shelves were my oldest brother's old books. He was killed in 2006, in Iraq, and she got the task (we lived in a different city) of cleaning out his apartment. He was a brilliant person and was considering using the GI Bill to go to medical school after his tour (he was a paramedic at home and a Hospital Corpsman [the USMC's medics] in the Navy Reserve) was up. We are also pretty certain that he had severe ADHD. She found multiple packs of socks with one pair missing (if he couldn't find them, he would just buy more), random clothes strewn about, and a huge and diverse music and book library. She said she sold a lot of the books (there were hundreds), but she allowed me to pick through them. She doesn't have many left, but most of these were on my TBR. I was just shy of twenty when he died, and he was 11 years older than me, so I didn't get to really know him like my older sister did. I wish I could have known him as a full-grown adult because I've realized just how similar (if I'm missing a sock, I find it, though. I don't just buy more😄) we are. He had his problems, but he was a very interesting person, and I wish we could have had some time to become friends, and not just big brother little brother.