I remember where I was when I found out.

We were sitting at the table at our cabin - eight hours straight north in the middle of the wilderness of Northern Minnesota, about to enjoy the first dinner of our vacation together. The lodge owner, Tim, had come down to our cabin nearly a half-hour ago because there was an urgent phone call for my mom. We didn't think anything of it, since it was a common occurrence for her to get business phone calls through the lodge, but it was hard not to notice the unusually somber look on Tim's face.

As I watched my mom leave, my immediate thoughts went to my older brother, Clayton, who was supposed to be arriving here with his two best friends tomorrow. He had been forced to stay back an extra day than the rest of us because of his job, but it had worked out that his two best friends that had practically grown up in our house were able to make it with him for yet another year. Right now it was just myself with my parents and my other brother, Sean, who was one year younger than me and four years behind Clay.

We had always been a fairly close family, considering us kids weren't too far apart in age, but everyone knew the special place my older brother held in my heart. I'd looked up to him ever since I could walk, and he'd been my idol for as long as I could remember.

My mom finally returned to the cabin a while later, and the three of us were still sitting around the dinner table, waiting. She'd taken longer than we'd expected her to, so the food had been sitting at the table for a few minutes, getting cold. When she finally walked inside, my dad stood up with a sigh of relief.

"Just in time," he told her with a smile. "The food's getting cold!"

Mom didn't smile, and I noticed the trails down her cheeks, left behind from tears that she hadn't bothered to wipe away. She had always been the emotional one in our family, tearing up on the occasional sappy movie ending or when she moved my brother and I to our college dorms for the first time, and it had always been with a smile on her face to show us all that everything was okay. But this time was obviously different, and before any of us had a chance to say anything else, she spoke.

"I have some bad news," she said, her voice very soft.

Immediately all of us were apprehensive, and followed her example as she took a seat at the table. I remember making eye contact with Sean, who looked like he was going to jump out of his skin if mom didn't tell us what was going on soon.

"Honey," my dad said, reaching out and taking mom's hand. "What's going on?"

Mom lifted her head and looked at him, then glanced at my brother and me. "The boys were in an accident last night," she told us.

My heart immediately skipped a beat at the thought, and I felt my breath get caught in my throat when I thought about my brother possibly not being all right.

"What?" Sean asked immediately, and I could tell by his voice that he didn't want to believe it. "They're okay, right?"

When my mom didn't answer, I knew. The tears were streaming down my face before she even told us and my dad wrapped an arm around my shoulder as Sean just stared in disbelief at my mom, who was struggling to remain calm.

"Jarrod and Ryan are in intensive care," she told us, comfortingly, "but the doctors think they'll pull through."

I sat in my chair, frozen, ignoring the sobs that were causing my body to shake and the tears that were blurring my vision. I wanted to ask how Clay was, whether he would be in the hospital with his friends or if he had come out of the accident in better condition, but I couldn't form the words fast enough. Instead I watched my mom take a deep breath before she uttered the words that would change my whole life.

"Clay didn't make it."

***

On August 7th we buried him, and it felt like my whole world was ending.

For a long time I refused to believe that Clay was really gone. I sat in his room for hours on end, remembering things about him and memories we had shared. It just didn't make sense to me. How could he be gone? He was just here. He couldn't be dead, I tried telling myself.

But he was, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

I remember the time, many years ago, when I realized my brother was a guardian angel in disguise; when my admiration for him fully took into affect.

We were at our babysitter's house one day before school, when I was in second grade, all of us kids were getting ready to make the three block trek to school, when a stray dog sauntered up the driveway and approached us, sniffing at us and licking our hands like normal dogs did. I remember seeing it start to chew on someone's bag, and when the owner, some boy I didn't know very well, ripped it out of the dog's mouth, it barked in disappointment, causing all of us to scatter within seconds.

For some reason, which I guess I will never know, the dog chose to chase me. Only seconds after we had all sprinted away, it had me pinned on the ground behind a parked car, wrestling me ino the dirt and mud. I was screaming, for obvious reasons, while the dog ripped at my clothing and dug its claws into my small body. In my short seven years, that was the scariest moment of my life. As a young child I didn't know any better, so I thought I was going to die; that this dog was going to tear me to shreds and I wasn't ever going to see my family or friends again.

But that's when Clay saved me. I'll remember it clearly as long as I live. There I was, lying on my back in the dirt and pine needles, the black lab towering over me as it attacked me, and I suddenly saw a head of light brown hair over the dog's head. Before I knew it, the animal had stepped off me, and I heard Clay's warning.

"Run!" he called to me. "Run!"

That was all I needed. I jumped off the ground, running towards the house as fast as my feet would carry me. Our babysitter's husband pulled me behind him, protectively hiding me. I didn't know what was happening at that point, where Clay was or where the dog had gone, but before I knew it, the animal was right in front of us, baring its teeth. After a few hits on the head with a large stick, our babysitter's husband had the dog subdued, and Clay appeared next to me, breathing hard with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Until then, I hadn't taken the time to even think about myself, but when I looked down at my shirt, torn into shards, and the huge claw marks on my arms and stomach, tears welled up in my eyes. Before I even had time to react, our babysitter's husband led us into the house and sat us down at the kitchen table. He called the Animal Control Center while our babysitter started to clean my cuts, comforting me as well as she could.

Clay sat by me the whole time, trying to keep my mind off of how much I was hurting while our babysitter tried to bandage Clay's hand. He'd cut it up pretty bad while he wrestled the dog away from me, but I didn't see any of it. I didn't find out until a few days later, but apparently Clay had physically pulled the dog off of me, then taunted and teased it until he had a chance to escape himself. As small as that sounds, this was a ten-year-old boy who pulled this off, and that black lab was twice his size, if not more.

That day, after we had both been to the doctor for our injuries, we were finally brought back together. I had received an insane amount of shots for rabies and a painful tetanus, while Clay received thirteen stitches to repair the damage the dog had done to his hand.

I remember when I first saw him, sitting next to my mom, when I walked into the waiting room with the doctor, and I realized the reason my brother's hand was wrapped in bandages and arm was in a sling was because he had protected me. He had come to my rescue without even a thought towards his own personal safety. The situation could have easily turned against him worse than it had, but he knew that I was in trouble, and he did the only thing he could think of. He saved me.

And from that day on, I knew that my older brother would always be by my side whenever I needed him, just like he was that day so long ago. He would always be looking out for me; whether I could see him or not, I knew he'd always be there.

Often times, now after the accident and everything that has happened, I take the time to look back at what I've been through growing up, and I realize how lucky I am. As each day of my life goes by, the appreciation I have for my family grows enormously. There aren't words to describe how grateful I am for the loving environment I was able to grow up in, and the wonderful lessons I learned in the process.

My parents are loving people, that is never something I have doubted, and I remember being young and watching them go through so much, especially with us kids, and wonder how much they could actually take before they had enough.

Sean had been born so weak and frail, and he'd been sick on and off for the first few years of his life. The hospital bills had been astronomical, but somehow they managed to pay them off. Both my parents worked when I was growing up so they could provide for us, and most of the time Clay was left to watch Sean and me. Jarrod and Ryan were in the picture even back then, and a lot of times they'd come over to help Clay watch us. To me it wasn't like I was being babysat. I was getting to hang out with my brothers, which I honestly began to, and still do, think Jarrod and Ryan both as.

I had my own share of problems, too, growing up as a tomboy and not really being accepted by everyone at school when I was younger. It was to be expected since I grew up with so many male role models influencing me, but it was really tough on me growing up. Things did change as I grew older, and by the time I was in high school I was accepted as an athlete and became just as popular as any other kid, but I remember so many times I would be in my room crying and every member of my family would do their best to cheer me up. I have memories from talks I have had with each of them, all of them encouraging me in their own way and helping me grow into the person I am today.

Clay wasn't perfect, no matter how amazing I make him sound. Everyone has their faults and things that they've done which might not have necessarily been the smartest things to do. Clay had those times, too. He was a normal kid growing up in a world full of temptations and peer pressures, just like everyone, but I think he had a little more of a wild side to him that made him want to experience everything as soon as he could. Once he grew out of his rebellious phase, Clay matured really fast, and when he got to college it was like he developed into the man he'd dreamt so long about becoming. That didn't keep him from making mistakes, though.

When he was just a freshman in college, Clay and his girlfriend broke the news to our parents that they were pregnant, and would be having a baby in less than six months. This obviously was a shock to our family, though from what I saw, my parents embraced the circumstances and made the most of it. When Clay's girlfriend was kicked out of her house, my parents moved Clay's room to the basement so she could live with us and they could have some privacy. Of course, there were times where the stress and demands really got to my parents, so obviously things weren't perfect, but as I've grown older I've begun to really admire the way my parents handled the situation and how much of a good thing it grew into.

Courtney was born so soon, it still hadn't sunk in for me even when Clay let me hold his daughter for the first time and I looked down into a pair of familiar eyes I'd known my whole life, only this time they were so innocent and beautiful in a purely infant way. Courtney became the joy of our lives, all of us taking a hand in raising her. And the side of my brother that came out through Courtney was a side I'd never seen before.

Clay had always tried to please everyone, which in turn made everyone appreciate him and love him. The way he embraced being a father was spectacular, and the support he gave his daughter's mother was amazing as well, despite the fact that they chose not to stay together but still raise their daughter jointly. It was as if Clay lived simply to make others happy because he went out of his way whenever anyone asked him to, and even when it wasn't asked of him. It didn't matter to him, he would do anything for you if he could.

Ironically, his best quality is what got him killed.

Especially after high school, Clay had never been one to drink very much, but made it known to his friends that he would always pick them up if they needed a ride. He didn't want his friends driving drunk or possibly ending up dead.

So that fatal night, Clay was in bed when his phone rang. Jarrod called because he and Ryan were at a party and had consumed a few too many drinks to drive home. Without hesitation, and rather than Jarrod and Ryan attempt to find an unsafe ride home, Clay got out of bed and picked his friends up. On their way home, Clay was amused by the drunken antics of his friends, and didn't have time to react when a car headed straight towards them, driving on the wrong side of the road at a speed much higher than the legal limit.

Six hours later, Clay was dead. They'd performed emergency surgery, but in the end, his injuries were too severe. Ryan and Jarrod were both still in surgery so they weren't even able to say goodbye to their best friend.

It was nearly a year after my brother's death when I paid my first visit - other than the funeral - to the cold, isolated graveyard. I had finally come to terms with everything. It's ironic, how unexpected the twists of fate are. The gray slab of stone that's sticking out of the ground holds his name and it's a harsh reminder.

Never, in my entire life, would I have pictured myself standing at my brother's tombstone just one week shy of our birthdays.

I had always loved having a birthday so close to my brother's. I don't know if he enjoyed it as much as I did, but having a joint birthday party with my older brother was like a dream come true. Clay and I would always get our picture taken together, blowing the candles out on our joint birthday cake.

Now that I think back, I can't believe Clay didn't mind sharing his birthday parties with me. Growing up with Sean as a little brother, I never would have wanted to share anything with him. But I guess that just shows what a thoughtful, loving and caring person Clay was.

***

After the accident, everyone had words of advice, but the most common words that were shared were to remember Clay and the memories we had with him. They told us not to let others forget how great of a person he was, and that thought brings tears to my eyes even to this day.

Everyone should remember Clay.

He may not have been the smartest person in the world, or the strongest, or the most beautiful, but that's what made him who he was. He had gone down the wrong road a few times, like all of us have, and had his share of mess-ups, but he had bounced back from them better than anyone expected him to.

The last time I saw Clay was the night before we had left for our cabin. The entire family was at home since we were leaving so early the next morning, and since Clay had to work the next day he hadn't gone out with his friends. He was laughing and cheerful, and we talked about how much fun we would have at our cabin that year, like we always did. Pretty soon we were recalling fond memories of our cabin, like the time Sean lost his swimming trunks when we were tubing, or the time Dad dropped his brand-new watch in the lake while we were fishing, or the time Jarrod, Ryan and Clay ran out of gas while they were fishing in our boat and had to be towed in by a friendly family that was passing by.

For a long time, I couldn't even think about my brother without breaking down, but it doesn't hurt so much anymore. I've had time to deal with everything and I realize that there are so many things about Clay that I'll never be able to forget.

Like the way he always claimed he couldn't stand Pudge, our family Basset Hound, but when he turned up missing Clay was always the first one out looking for him.

Or how he loved being a teacher, yet the only books he ever read on his own were Star Wars.

The way he would continuously encourage me to play basketball, even when I got hurt and most everyone else suddenly had more important things to do than help me with recovering.

The way his smile would turn up on the left just a little more than the right - as if he were smirking at you, like he knew something you didn't.

The way his face would light up with animation when he told a story, his eyes sparkling as he used his hands to help him convey his message.

How there was just this way about him that captured everyone's attention when he spoke.

Over time, I've learned that the best way to keep Clay alive is to remember the times I had with him. Now, when I'm home with my parents and Sean, we like to watch old home videos, or share old memories of Clay that have come to mind since the last time we've talked.

And now, after Clay's death, I'm beginning to learn who my brother really was. There are so many memories of Clay, but if there's one thing that really shows the way Clay was, it can best be seen in his task that killed him; helping someone when they needed him.

That's the Clay that I'll remember.