1 month and 12 days!!!!! (A tribute to my brother)

Note: This post is to be read with an English accent (I'm watching Jane Eyre for my English class while I write it).
My dear brother Michael will be returning from his mission in Oregon in exactly 1 month and 12 days. I've been counting down for about 3 months now (I'm definitely not excited or anything). The reason I don't look exactly chipper in this picture is because it was taken after Michael's 'setting apart', where I about had a 'come apart.'
Michael has been one of the best brothers a girl could ask for (I have three of afore mentioned brothers, but for the sake of time and space I'll just concentrate on the one for now). Ever since I can remember Michael has been there to take care of me and make sure I'm doing okay. I can remember a time when I was maybe four or five, when Michael and I were going on a bike ride and some neighbor boys (who will remain unnamed, you know who you are!) ran me off the sidewalk into the craw-dad infested ditch. A craw-dad bit my little finger, but Michael pulled me out, got mad at the boys (he was too nice to do anything besides give them a good talking to), cleaned me up, dried my tears, and walked me home.
All through elementary, middle school, and high school Michael would make sure I was awake in time to get ready for school, and, knowing I would still barely make it no matter how early I got up, he made me toast, got all of my bags ready, made me a lunch, and waited to walk with me to the bus stop nearly every day. He always defended me when I needed it, and was proud of me for my accomplishments. He would assure me I was beautiful after only the nerds would ask me to dance at the stake dances. He always let me know that he was there if I ever wanted to talk about boys or anything, which we did in his room almost every night.
When we were younger and I would get lonely he would sleep on the floor in my room on the condition that I make his bed (he insisted that I did it best). He was alway willing to be my taxi whenever I needed one. He repaired flat tires, shower rods, hurt pride, and really just anything that needed fixing. He even made me a beautiful headboard for Christmas, somehow managing to keep it a complete surprise. These are only a few of the countless loving things Michael did for me.
For some reason when someone you love leaves for an extended period of time you remember everything you ever did to them. I'm really good at feeling guilty anyway (I still feel guilty for for being too shy to kiss my dad's cheek when we sang in church when I was about four for Father's Day, which he doesn't even remember), so now with Michael gone I feel absolutely...[insert word that expresses feeling really bad]. About the only thing we would ever fight about was who got to control the radio in the car. After much protesting he would usually give up and let me have my way. He was so sweet to me my whole life and I didn't do much to show him how much I appreciated him and everything he did for me. I resolve to do everything I can to show him how much I love him from now on. I love my family so much. I am truly blessed.