We're in an empty parking lot, just me and him. The sun is out, it's warm, and he's dressed in purple, as normal. There's no one else around, no noises, nothing but the world and us. And I grab him by the shoulders, face to face, and I tell him "I don't know where you are, or what you're doing, but I hope you go and do everything you want to do. You are greatness and wonderfulness and everything there is in the world to be. You're my little brother and I love you. Never forget that, wherever you go and whatever you do: I love you."
And he smiles, like he does, a shy unassuming one, and turns away, and walks a couple steps, and suddenly he's a bunch of purple balloons, and he's rising into the air, higher and higher, into the bright blue sky, until he's so high that I can't see him anymore, the sun is too bright and the sky is too big and the world is too everything. But I still see him and hear him and know he's there. And I won't ever forget. Never.
I love you, Jared. And I always will.