Thomas remembered the first time that Brian suggested they make these videos. They were just over fourteen years home from their first literal battle. They’d both been hurt—not seriously—but enough so that they both realized that this was an actual war they were fighting, that they might not make it out alive, or even worse, only one of them might make it out.
So Brian suggested the videos. It was something to watch, one last letter, message from their brother in case the whole thing went sour.
Thomas had felt so awkward recording his, sitting alone in a small room in the middle of the night—talking to his brother as if he was already dead—knowing anything that he said would be the last thing Brian ever heard from him. But it had been important to Brian so Thomas sat down and tried to record a goodbye letter for his brother.
Now he was grateful for it. He held the DVD in his hand, and read over the dates that had been written and scratched out and re-written as Brian re-recorded the video through the years. Thomas hadn’t redone it quite so frequently. Perhaps it was a good thing that Brian had gone first—as to not be disappointed by Thomas’s mediocre letter.
He spun the disc once more—still not ready to open the case and put in the player. If he watched—Brian was really gone.
But then again, Brian was gone. Not watching the video wasn’t going to change anything. It was disrespecting one of Brian’s wishes to not watch the video. Thomas had to watch it, for him. He put the DVD in the player, grabbed a bottle of something strong, and sat down to see the last thing his brother ever had to say to him.