In which I fail to kill my brother

It's official:

My brother has turned into my father.
Until now, he and my sister-in-law have never come to visit me in Increasingly Diverseville. Not when The Husband and I were newlyweds, not when my first niece could've flown with them for free -- or when the second one could've flown for free... I'm not bitter. No, really, not bitter at all.

But now all is forgiven. My sister-in-law made sure to schedule some time with us when they came up to Portland for a convention. So we did the touristy stuff, starting with a ferry ride.
You try matching the strides of a six-foot-tall auntie...
... and a six-four uncle. See how well you do.
I thought someday I would take a photo like this of my dad and The Boy. But my father died a month before The Boy's first birthday. This weekend, I saw my father in the way my brother now leans into his shoulder and peers over his glasses. (And cusses, when he thinks the kids are out of earshot.)
It breaks my heart and comforts me all at once.