My brother and I were only a year apart, so naturally we were very close. Growing up we did the normal things brothers and sisters do: fight, argue and get on each others nerves. No mater how much we fought, at the end of every night we would always sleep in the same room because we were scared of cats and felt safer with each other than apart. Even when I was 15 and he was 14, he would come to my room at night and sleep on the floor beside my bed. Eventually, the fighting and arguing stopped by the time we reached 17 and 16. We became even closer; he was my best friend, someone that I always shared my secrets with. We accepted one another and loved each other very deeply. Christopher was always joking around and he had a beautiful smile. He had everyone laughing when he came around. Over the years life became more and more difficult for my brother to bear. One Saturday morning, I awoke to find my little brother dead from an overdose. The pain I felt that morning and each day since is a pain that I've never felt before. It's always present and seems to get deeper with each passing day. Words can't describe how much I miss my little brother. I miss hearing his voice and his laugh. I miss feeling his embrace and most of all I miss hearing him say, "Hey sis, I love you”.