text: "Twenty miles more, please don't die until we get there, it'll ruin everything" I said as I glanced at the speedometer. I didn't want to get stopped by a state trooper or local cop, they just wouldn't understand what was going on. A light snow was wetting the road in a half-hearted way. Hopefully the field would look nice for Michael, he deserved to die in a picturesque spot and he made me promise to take him there, no matter what. We drove for a bit in the silence, the wipers protested about being too dry so I switched them off. The lump in my throat wouldn't go away; he was a good brother and still is, well at least will be for the next hour or so. He sat up, the effort of breathing made him wince. "You got the good whiskey and the weed?” he said, “I'm not gonna check out with some cheap shit," he said with a laugh. "Yeah, I got it, " I said. It was nearly four when we turned off the highway and onto the desert trail. It was one of those places where people shoot at things and nobody cares. I switched the Jeep to four wheel drive and slowed to a crawl as the trail got steeper. This didn't look promising, what if he got it wrong? And now it began snowing a bit more. It would be ironic if both of us died here. As we rounded a bend in the trail we finally got there. I could tell this was the spot he had picked out. There was a grassy slope punctuated with rocks; we could see the city many miles away and far below. It was nearly sunset as I shut off the engine and sat for a minute as the tears started to well up. Too many unfinished plans, too many dreams that fell apart. Too many false starts. "I love you bro," I said as I started to cry, “Cancer sucks.” "I love you too. I'm sorry for all the shit I did to you growing up, I really am," he said. He stared out the window as his breathing grew shallower, it was almost time. I set up a table and chairs on the uneven ground then poured two glasses of whiskey and helped him walk from the car. I gave him a hug. I sat down to fire up the pipe and handed it to him so he could take a hit. The smoke seemed to swirl around him as if it knew that he too was going to dissipate and float away. We made a silent toast and tossed our whiskey back. It burned all the way down but the pain felt good in the moment. Overhead a hawk soared in a wide circle, it screeched and echoed against the mountains. I started to speak and point it out, but stopped to realize that this would be the last time I would point out something cool to my brother. But then I turned. And he was gone.