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Two years ago today was my brother's last day on earth. He spent it with my mom while she groomed him and cared for him. His tired, muscle wasted body. His beautiful brown eyes. His infectious smile. His lion heart. All gone in a matter of minutes...hours...days...years. How do you count the time for someone who was given an expiration date at the age of 6.
I walked past his bedroom around this time two years ago, complaining about something from work to my mom, not even acknowledging him. I didn't say a single thing to him. Just walked past. I don't remember now the last thing I said to him or when I said it. Or how I said it. Was I nice? Was I frustrated? Was I silly?
I don't know. And sometimes it haunts me. Haunts me that I can remember what it felt like taking off his ventilator the next morning, that I can remember his cold hands and listening for a heartbeat with my stethoscope. It haunts me that I can remember what the sky looked like at camp 20 years ago and how a boy made me feel but I can't remember the last conversation we had.
I miss him so much sometimes that the missing of him feel almost physical, like an actual piece of my body is missing. They say brothers and sisters are the closest people to you in terms of DNA. I wonder if we really do feel things at a cellular level. This would be something I'm sure my brother would have loved to discuss.
I don't really know where I was going with any of this. I just miss him. My oldest friend.
-M🐦
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This is beautiful, do you know that? :)
I'm sorry this happened to you... It's terrible when these things happen to our loved ones. It's a process of accepting, which from here, you can tell that you have. It's good to remember and reminisce. Don't feel bad about not remembering the last conversation. Instead, remember all of the amazing, memorable conversations. I hope you're doing better!
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