My older brother was only a year and three months older than me, we were the closest in age in the whole family. We both had red hair and since we were only a year apart, everyone called us Irish twins. Personality wise, we were pretty different. I’m more extroverted, but he’s probably one of the my introverted people I ever knew. He was also one of the funniest and most meticulous people I knew. He was a little odd, but charming, and even though we weren’t particularly close, I still knew he would always have my back. In 2022, Oct. 1st, he married a girl he’d been dating since they were thirteen. He had just turned nineteen a few months before the wedding. The girl was one of my best friends and no one had ever seen two people love each other as much as my brother loved her and she loved him. The night before the wedding was the rehearsal dinner, which my brother told me to skip because that day was my eighteenth birthday. I felt bad at first, but both he and his fiancé told me I should go get dinner with one of my best friends and celebrate turning 18, so I did. My mom wasn’t happy that I didn’t attend the rehearsal dinner, and told me I would regret not spending time with him some day. I waved her off. Less than a month after he got married, on Monday, October 31st of 2022, he was driving on his motorcycle over a bridged intersection to come to my parents house to give a video game to our younger brother and say hi to me. He was the safest driver in the family. Never got a ticket, never got in an accident. Never sped ten over the limit. An elderly woman turned about fifteen feet early and hit him. He was wearing full protective gear: helmet, leather jacket, gloves, special boots. His bike barely hit her car, but it knocked him off balance and he hit the railing. The metal railing caved in his helmet and fractured his skull in two different places. The paramedics say he was dead before his body even hit the ground. The woman maintains that she didn’t even see him, but I don’t care if she did or not. I’m a Christian, was raised in the church, same as my family, and my older brother who was very devout. The woman who killed him told us she’s also a Christian, and knows that he’s in a better place. But I genuinely hope that woman never sleeps well again in her life. I hope she hates herself for what she took from me, I hope the guilt of killing my brother is the last thing she feels before she dies. I know that sounds horrible but her one act of carelessness when she turned in too soon on that bridge took my big brother from me. Forever. He had waited five years. Five years to marry the woman he loved. He had a house with her and everything, and wanted to be a father. And because of that old woman, he got less than a month with the woman of his dreams. Now she’s widowed at eighteen. It’s been a little over six months since he died, but it still feels like yesterday. I’m turning nineteen this year, in four months. That’s how old he was when he died. And I’m afraid to tell anyone, because I feel childish, but I’m so scared to turn nineteen. I just feel this horrendous sense of guilt and impending doom, like it’s against the universe to be as old as my older brother. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live my life. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get older. I hope that woman never finds peace, never ever ever.