My brother and I had a "Nobody hits my baby sister but me" relationship. We couldn't spend a hour in the same room together without fighting, but he was protective and I worshipped the ground he walked on. We grew up as Army Brats, and with each move I always knew I could count on my big brother. When I reached my teens and he was a young adult we matured enough to actually become friends. After his death I found out he would brag about me graduating from nursing school to anyone who would listen. One day as I was getting ready for my shift in the ER my dad called to tell me Chris had been in an accident and was at my ER. He'd been cut off on the freeway and was ejected when he lost control of his car. By the end of the day he was in a coma. A week later he passed away. He was 31 years old. My parents agreed to make him a donor, and he was an angel for four people. Fifteen years later I contacted the donor network for an update on his recipients. His heart and liver recipients had had ten more years of life before passing away, and while one kidney never woke up, the other one was still going strong. He wasn't just my hero. He was theirs too.