Reposted because this may help you love your siblings more. This is about a loss, and it may be sad to you... So read if you want.. This is written in the POV of a 14 year old watching her 17 year old brother. Please don't read this if you're going to harm yourself, that's not why I wrote it. Thank you.
You had gotten used to the constant sound of the oxygen machine, the occasional coughs, gasps, hacks and even the sound of the suction machine that helped him breathe; there was just one thing you couldn't get used to: the fact that your big brother was going to die. Die. He would be dead. Gone. But why? What did you do? Was it all the times you fought and told him you hoped he died? Was it when you would actually hurt each other? Did you cause this? Was it your fault? Did you not pray enough? You can’t help but feel guilty that your brother’s life is cut short and all you can think about is what's going to happen to you. How are you going to handle this?
Cancer. You never knew it attacked kids, how come? Mom came home one day. "Let’s talk" she said with a plain look on her face. You could already feel it. Your stomach flipped as you sat down, your mother’s eyes filling with tears. "Your brother isn't going to make it. The cancer is going to win" your mother sobs. For that minute, your body freezes. You can't move. Your stomach does about five more flips as tears poor down your face. You break down and admit to how you have been feeling for the past 9 months. You never wanted to bother your parents about how you were feeling. They already had one sick kid; you didn't want them to have to deal with so much. You had always tried to stay strong for your parents but that wasn't possible at this moment. Your mother explained to you about hospice and how we'll have a nurse coming in to help your family, she explains that he'll most likely pass in his sleep, and how we can't tell many people, Especially at school. You still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that your brother was going to die.
About a week after you got the news, you had to tell your best friend. She didn't understand as much as you wanted her to, but no one else did. You had to act normal at school, even though it was a struggle just to go every morning… No one else could be in your shoes at that moment. Your brother came home that week. He was looking pretty good, or, at least you thought so. Maybe he wouldn't die? You would think, trying to avoid what you knew you couldn’t change. I wish he would be okay. You met the nicest woman ever, the hospice nurse. She taught your parents how to give meds, shots, how to re full his nutrition bag, she even showed you how to get some shots ready and how to make sure the air bubbles were out. She was a great distraction and she loved your brother.
(this part is really hard for me to write, because I feel so guilty for being so selfish.) Sometimes you got really scared, like when your parents left you in charge of your brother when they went into a different room. You were scared something bad would happen and it would be your fault. It hurt you beyond words to see your brother that sick and when you were alone, any little cough or gag scared you so bad. You knew he wouldn't be there much longer and you felt so guilty for being so scared. Your brother would want to play games with you, so you would, but the whole time, you were terrified that something would happen. You tried to be strong but you were just so scared. Some days he just liked to cuddle. You would sit next to him on the couch, making sure you didn't sit on any of the tubes and he would put his bald, scarred head on your chest. You would rub his head, while you both watched whatever was on the tv that night. You just stayed there for hours. You would occasionally kiss the top of his head. As you held him in your arms you held back tears. Thinking of how in a few weeks he wouldn't be here. How your big, giant older brother somehow turned into a pale, skinny, sick child. You know it wasn't his fault but he just hurt you do bad to see the boy you looked up to so sick and fragile. Every night, you would enter the living room about 11:30 where your dad would already be right next to your brother’s bedside and walk over. "Goodnight, I love you" you would say as you kissed him on his warm forehead. He would smile and try to say the words "love you" as he would hug you, even if he couldn’t open his eyes, or raise his arms, he would still try his best to kiss you back. Sometimes he didn't have enough of a hug and when you started to pull up, he would grab you back down. He would kiss you on the cheek and would wave to you as you would run upstairs to your room, your escape.
A couple weeks progressed and your brother wasn't very comfortable. They brought him a hospital bed the same day they brought him in an ambulance to get an X-ray for pneumonia. How could he of gotten that? Was it your fault? You went to school... He could have gotten it off of you. You were super relived when you heard he didn't have it, you would of never forgave yourself.
Once he got the hospital bed things when downhill. That week you went to school, it was a fun spirit week. The first two days were costume wearing, and Wednesday was a late start. Wednesday morning, October of 2011 your dad woke our mother by shaking her, and whispered "he's gone. He stopped breathing" your mother quickly ran out of bed she grabbed the hand of her son, for one of the last times. Quietly sobbing for 15 minutes, your mother walks upstairs to wake you. One of the hardest things she'll ever have to do. You look at the clock, confused. "Late start mom...” you remind her as your stir in bed as you turn to see her face. “Is he okay?!" you quickly assume as your mother shakes her head. "He died." your heart sank, your stomach dropped, you stopped thinking for a minute as you ran down the stairs stopping in the middle of the living room staring at the figure, tucked in white sheets in the hospital bed. At the same time you noticed the oxygen machine was off, all you heard was muffled sobs from your parents. You knew this day was coming, but you weren't ready. Rage fills your body as your run to your brother. "Say your last goodbye", your father says, putting a hand on your shoulder. You look down at your brother, face pale, but still a little color in his cheeks you reach out and touch his cheeks. You let the tears flow as you look down at him. The brother you looked up to, who was chubby, cheeky, and made you laugh till you peed. The one you spent your whole life hating, and getting into his space was finally gone. Shakily you manage to squeak out "Big bro, I love you. I love you big bro, you're always in my heart, and I'll never forget you." as you squeeze his hand, knowing he can't feel it. Not anymore. You kiss your brother, all over the face and rub his head. For the last time. Your body felt so numb. You really just didn't know what to do. As your mother called the funeral parlor and hospice and wrapped yourself in a hoodie and just started shaking. You couldn't handle it anymore. He was gone. He was just in the other room, why did he die? A nurse came and took all his tubes of as you lay in your mother’s bed, no words escaping, just lying. Not too much longer when the funeral man comes inside. He has a long stretcher. You walk into the living room. Silence filled the room, tears streaming down your face as your parents had gotten your brother on the stretcher with the help of the nurse. You held your brothers hand, Kissed him on the cheek and whispered "I love you" for the last time ever. Your brother was gone.
