a99kitten's Musings

One week ago today, I held my little brother’s hand for the last time. Saw him for the last time. Technically that is when he died. In reality, he died on Sunday morning, November 7th. But his death certificate says November 9th. He was kept on life support after 2 heart attacks. His EEG showed no brain activity. And many other tests they ran and re-ran for us showed no life, as I would define life anyway. He was 27.

There are a ton of things I could say about him. About how much I loved him. He was my “little dude”. We were many years apart. But even when he grew to a foot taller than me, I called him that (when he’d ask why the heck I still did that, I’d always answer because you always will be.) I spoiled him whenever I could and told him he was a dumbass when he needed it. I took care of him and raised him for a year when he was 10 between my mom getting sick with Alzheimer’s and my Dad changing his life to take care of her/him. I should have kept him. I will always think that. He and I were very close. No matter how well he was doing or what trouble he got into, I loved him the same. He was my brother.

But I can’t think, let alone type, any of that right now. Makes me cry too much. But I do think letting things out is healthy and bottling up emotions are bad. And maybe writing about it will make me cry a little less. I’ve been barely keeping it together since Sunday when I got the call from Florida that he was in the ER. And that’s very unlike me. I couldn’t even make my flights as I stared at the computer unable to comprehend what I was doing. Or when I saw him lying there, hooked up to a bunch of machines that were keeping him alive. Or when I had to sign all of the paperwork for his organ donor procedures. Or as I held his hand up until they told me it was time for him to go. That is a crushing sadness that I had never experienced. And never want to again. Then as a next of kin you need to suck it up and get to make all the decisions and take care of all the details, go to the nursing home and tell your sick father that his son died, and deal with his fiancee and friends, and the funeral home. And his stuff. When all you want to do is curl up in bed and cry.

Luckily, I had friends there for me. Even though I suck at ever, ever asking for help from anyone – I needed it. Good friends made my travel arrangements when I couldn’t confront it, flew out with me, stayed with me, came to visit me and sat there with me as I said goodbye. They drove me around, helped make arrangements with me, called and brought other friends together for me, told me funny stories to get my mind out of sadness even if for an hour or 2, and sometimes just sat there quietly with me as I cried. I will never forget that. And appreciate it more than they could ever know.

I asked my husband to stay behind to take care of Storm. He just had surgery and wasn’t doing all that well and the last thing I could handle was anything happening to him too. So he stayed behind and took care of the huskies and sent me pictures of them all the time. His Mom flew out to be with me too and she was awesome. You will never meet a more perfect mom. I hope she fully realizes how much she helped.

His fiancee and friends told me he always talked about me. About how much he loved me and how close we were. That I was his best friend and kinda like his Mom. While it did make me happy to hear, it made me cry. Still does. It’s not fair. And while I have always known life isn’t fair – this is beyond F’ed up. His fiancee gave me his Star Wars toys. She said he would have wanted me to have them. I put them in my closet. I cannot deal with them right now. Along with his papers and some pictures. I know that some day I will be able to look at it all. But not now. Right now I get up and walk the huskies which is the best part of my day. Then I go to work. When I come home I do chores to stay busy and then stare at the TV as I try to go to sleep. I find it hard to go to sleep now. I have to concentrate on counting sheep so that my mind doesn’t start going with other stuff. It actually works if you are tired enough. I know it will get better. But it’s just not right now. I used to think I could handle anything in the world as long as nothing happened to my little brother. Just not fair.

He chose to be a donor. I remember when we talked about it. Him asking me my opinion on it. Him laughing when I said yes I am a donor but man – they better try hard. One thing to know – even if you choose to be a donor, if you are not dead and they get you hooked up to life support, your family can still make/change that decision for you. So make sure they are on board with your decision. And can deal with the paperwork. It’s not really all that easy. Not at all. Analytically I knew he was gone. But seeing him there looking like he was sleeping, holding his hand, remembering our conversation not 2 days prior about his upcoming wedding and the Star Wars figures he was collecting made me want him back and to save him no matter what. Having to kiss his forehead goodbye and know it was the last time I would ever see him. But I knew he wasn’t there to save.

Thursday morning, the nurse called me to tell me that in addition to his various parts going to people in need, he was truly a hero and they wanted me to know it and be proud. A 16 year old boy who hadn’t found a match and would have died in a day or 2 without a new heart, was a match for my brother. So he saved a 16 year old boy. Allowed him to go on and live a full life. Hopefully one full of promise and good. I always said he had a good heart. He would really like that.