My oldest brother died this week. I didn't know him very well. We were half siblings, and he was 20 years older than me. He had leukemia. He was a Vietnam Veteran, a career Marine, with all the baggage that goes with that.

My earliest memory of him is meeting him for the first time when I was a toddler and he was home on leave. I remember craning my neck all the way back to see him because he was so tall. He and I hit it off right away. He was handsome, charming and funny. He was a good brother to me. Just too many years between us, and too many miles.

He asked me if I would donate bone marrow, and I would have, but never received the kit from the hospital. I don't know if they just didn't bother testing me because we weren't full siblings, but I would have done it for him. In the end, it was a moot point since he ended up having other health issues that made him ineligible for transplant.

In his honor I will be donating blood regularly. I wish I could have helped him.