I never knew my brother Floyd not to fight. I remember our childhood; he was my one and only hero. Although three years younger than me, he acted like a big brother. Even when he was forced out of our home at a very young age (ten), he was a brave little boy who roamed the west coast and southern regions of America. I was surprised when he returned home as a teen. His life was plagued by child abuse and despair but he was such a "brave" soldier. Even when he was diagnosed with HIV, he was determined to wage a war against the disease. For more than twenty - one years, he fought and won that battle. He didn't appear to look HIV for years; he began to look that way only weeks before his death. Floyd was not gay, but life had thrown so many curves and hurdles at him until by the time he returned from his nomadic adventure in 1969 as a teen,he had become an intravenous drug addict' by the age of seventeen. He fought his "demons" by drowning himself in the drug of his choice, heroine. Despite the many adversities and countless disappointments in his life, he remained as positive as he could, never giving up his belief in God and himself. By the time of his demise, he had become content to "live" and die for his belief in God.