We have just arrived home after two weeks of spending time by Sam's bedside as he battles to regain his life. For more details and photos, visit John's blog.
Anyone who knows I have a brother knows at least one thing about us -- we were not very good at "getting along" as kids. Our sibling battles were frequent, and they grieved Mother.
After Sam was in the hospital for 8 weeks...basically on life support...the time was right for us to travel to be by his side. As I stood beside Sam's bedside in Modesto Memorial ICU for the first time, he took my latex-gloved hand and kissed my fingertips. His lips moved, but they formed no words. Tears came to his eyes (and mine).
The memories of wasted years flood my thoughts. Oh, reader, don't think of us as battling all those years. As adults, we have had two or three really good conversations about why we were always fighting as kids. Because we have not lived near each other, it has just been easy to live our lives with little regard for each other.
This illness has caused me to realize how precious family ties are. Our father died 18 years ago, following Mother's death by one year.
When we were kids, Sam would tease or hit or irritate me. Mother would force him to apologize.
He would say, "I'm sorry...but I don't mean it." Mother would make him say it again. "I'm sorry."
"But I don't mean it." This apology could take what seemed like an eternity.
Mother might even make him hug or kiss his little sister and once again...say the words "I'm sorry."
But as soon as Mother left the room, Sam would add "But I don't mean it." I realize now that she probably left the room to laugh.
After two weeks of "suiting up" to be near Sam, watching him sleep, cheering him on as he lifted his arms for the first time to exercise....as he "sat up" (his nurses pushed the buttons that made his bed into a chair )...as his speech became clearer through his tracheotomy...and many other firsts on his road to recovery, the time came for us to return home.
One last trip to the hospital to say "goodbye."
Again, the tears came..."Sis. I love you....."
And this time I believe he meant it.
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1 comment:
I wept to see it, and I weep to read about it.
Mone were tears of frustration for Sam's situation; tears of compassion for this brother and sister - the last of their line - reaching out to one another; tears of joy for love being expressed.
Even in adversity, blessings can be found; they are God's gift to us.
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