My older brother, Kyle, has always been the person I looked up to the most. I've always thought it was my mom, or my dad, but when I really analyzed who I could call my hero, all signs point to Kyle. He's been my protector since the day I was born; I have the five-and-a-half year age gap to thank for that. You know how after you've spent so much time with someone, you start to act like them? Well, Kyle and I have adopted the same sarcastic sense of humor, the same mannerisms, and the same facial expressions. If I needed a hug at two in the morning when a boy broke my heart, or a late night fast food partner, he was my guy – all I had to do was walk three steps and knock on his door.

So when he told me he was leaving for Navy boot camp on April 30, you can imagine the stab of pain I felt in my heart; he was leaving me. My person, my literal best friend from day one, was going to voluntarily lay his life on the line instead of staying here with me, like he has for the last 19 years.

I didn't speak to him for about a week; in retrospect, this was not the ideal way to handle the situation, but it was the only way I knew how to at the time. I thought it was just a phase, or something he mentioned only because he didn't want to sit in a cubicle from nine to five every day. I thought he'd eventually get used to punching a clock and wearing suits and ties. But over the course of about a year, I watched my brother train and study for this next chapter of his life, including but not limited to going to the gym at five in the morning every day (before the sun had even come up. Talk about dedication). I'd never seen him put so much heart and effort into something that he truly wanted in life – I could finally understand that he wanted this experience for more reasons than to simply get out from behind a desk.

While I may have mourned my personal loss of having Kyle two feet away from me, I welcomed the passionate, committed, and brave person my brother had become as April 30 drew nearer. For those of you who don't know, boot camp is eight weeks long, with no contact with outside family or friends for the first two weeks. After that, it's just sporadic letters and brief phone calls until June 26, the day my family packs our bags and heads to Illinois for his graduation. Since I attended college two hours away from home and couldn't spend every day with my brother before he left, we both learned how important the time we had with each other really was. We texted or FaceTimed almost every day, even if it was just to say "I love you." It was then that I learned why my brother chose military life. He texted me this the week of his departure:

"I love you too... I can't believe I have such an amazing, smart, and beautiful little sister who is all grown up and such an amazing woman now. I want to do my part for this country because of people like you that give America a good name."

I've never been more proud to call him not only my brother, but also my friend. So as April 30 finally arrived, my family walked up to the Dallas MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) building to check in and say our goodbyes to Kyle, finally feeling ready for this process to officially begin.

"I.D., please."

Sh*t. I FORGOT MY LICENSE AT HOME. In my rush out the door to see my brother, I HAD FORGOTTEN MY WALLET. They couldn't check me in without an I.D. My eyes welled up immediately as the realization hit me: I wouldn't get to go see him. So much for feeling ready. I walked outside and shoved my face in my hands, unable to stop the tears from taking over me. A few minutes later, my brother's fiancé, Amber, walked out and said, "They're getting someone to come down and verify that you're his sister. Breathe, you get to see him!"

Oh my God, I'm an idiot. I didn't even give them a chance to explain that to me. Well, good thing I didn't make a scene (there's that sarcasm I mentioned earlier). We walked up to the processing floor (escorted by Navy security, nice going, Kara), watched Kyle swear in for the final time, and spent the last couple of hours that we'd get with him for two months. I found myself happy rather than sad for him to leave; I knew how excited and ready he was for this next adventure. As I hugged him goodbye, he said, "See you soon. Love you, little sis." Every time I walk by his room without some military documentary, "American Sniper" or "Lone Survivor" playing on his TV screen, or go to knock on his door at two in the morning and realize he isn't there, I remember those words: I'll see him soon.

So here's to the two things I've learned so far in Chronicles of a Navy Sister: 1. When I miss Kyle, all I have to do is look up at the night sky and remember he's like a star; sometimes I can't see him, but I know he's always there, and 2. never ever leave the house without your I.D.

Standby, readers. As Kyle's graduation day approaches, let's see what great mistakes I'll make this time in Great Lakes, Illinois!