Hospital food is the worst. Even when you're dying of cancer they still serve you the same inedible slop. I'd been trying to scoop an impenetrable pile of something that resembled mashed potatoes with a flimsy spork when Marshall arrived.

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"Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked, surprised to see him unchaperoned by either of our parents. He flashed me a giant grin.

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"I rode my bike over from school. I made you something," he said. Reaching into his backpack, he added, "Mom said it was okay, don't worry."

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"You made me something? Really?"

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"Yeah, check it out!"

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I looked down at the painting he presented me, at a complete loss for words. It was magnificent, a work that seemed to exceed far beyond what a third grader should be capable of. I was stunned. It depicted a large tree casting shade, and a sun that was either rising or setting over a serene lake beyond. Every brush stroke had been thought out, every hue had been carefully chosen to bring the scene before me to life.

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"Do you, do you like it?" Marshall asked, wringing his hands.

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"I… I love it," I breathed, "Marshall, where did you learn to paint like this?"

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"Oh, well I've been working on it in art class. Ms.DeRosa knows that you're… That you're here, so she told me I could work on this instead of class stuff. I thought you might like to look at something besides the buildings," he gestured to the rooftops outside my window.

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I found myself misty-eyed, so touched by my brother's thoughtfulness that words failed me once again. He wrapped his arms around me, and we stayed like that for a while.

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"I've been reading a lot, thinking a lot. You know, not much else to do here," I told him later on, "I've been really thinking about heaven."

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"Hey, everything is going to be-"

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"Just listen," I cut him off, "You never know. So I need you to promise me something, okay?"

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"What is it?"

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"I think heaven is the place you want to be when you die," I said, lifting the painting, "And this is where I want to go. I want to sit here against this tree and wait for you. Do you promise to meet me there?"

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"I promise."

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That was years ago. Through all the operations and the many different rooms I inhabited during my battle, Marshall's painting remained a constant. By the time I finally went home, I knew every detail of it by heart. And as I've gotten older, no matter where I'm living, it has always been with me. I still start my days by looking at it.

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So this morning, I knew. I knew long before the phone call, I knew long before the details of the car accident were relayed to me. I knew, because this morning when I looked at the painting, I found Marshall resting against the tree, a look of total peace on his face.