I Had to Give My Brother Permission to Die 20 Years Ago on New Year's Eve

In 1995, on New Year's Eve, at a hospital in the ritzy Buckhead area of Atlanta, Georgia, my brother, Chris Hampton, with the wicked sense of humor, impeccable taste, and ability to make me believe he was invincible, drew his last, raspy breath, succumbing to AIDs at the age of 31.

Being only 10 months older than me, Mom used to sometimes dress us like twins when we were little. I always liked to think that we possessed that super special, twin-like bond. While Chris and our eldest brother, Penn, shared a bedroom with stacked bunk beds, Chris and I pestered our parents almost every weekend to let him have a sleepover in my room until they relented. As any brother and sister, we did our share of squabbling, but we were also best buddies.

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