This
particular blog post is dedicated to my "little" brother (who ended up
being the tallest of our generation).
When my brother was 12 years old, he was diagnosed with AVM, which is a malformation in his brain. Granted, medicine and technology have
come a long way since he was first diagnosed in the early 1980's; he one of the first cases in the United States.
They
told my parents that he would not likely live to see adulthood. They
could try to prolong his life a little by alleviating the pressure on
the brain. The first of many brain-surgeries opened a place in his
skull, so he could no longer participate in track - a sport he loved. In
fact, with nothing but hair and skin between a potential impact and his
brain, he was banned from all sports, including the school's gym class.
I don't know how much my brother realized his time in this world was limited; he did know that each time he went into the hospital (yearly at times) may be his last time. But beyond that, he continued to live his life as though nothing was different. He laughed and lived each moment to the fullest.
I don't know how much my brother realized his time in this world was limited; he did know that each time he went into the hospital (yearly at times) may be his last time. But beyond that, he continued to live his life as though nothing was different. He laughed and lived each moment to the fullest.
In
school, he was one a handful selected to learn the newest
"rage" - the computer. Like my dad, he had an exceptionally sharp mind
and uncanny ability to figure out the technology with very little
instruction. Soon he was teaching the teachers on the school's first
computer (which, if I recall correctly, was in a storage room next to the
mimeograph machine they still used at the time).
My
brother always looked at the positive side of things, though, and found
humor in the strangest places. He would get such a thrill when he told
people to place their hand on a certain part of his head. Then he'd lean
forward so they would feel his brain slosh against their fingertips,
laughing at the expression on their face. It was certainly something
they couldn't do.
But
his medical condition wasn't the only thing he laughed about. He'd
enjoy laughing at everything. It was this sense of humor that lifted the
entire family, through both his problems and ones we faced in our
own lives.
Because of my little brother's example, we all held onto a child-like heart through life's ups and downs.
Needless to say, despite the doctor's warnings, my little brother reached adulthood. He went on to become a Director of IT for a company, got married, bought a nice house and had three beautiful children.
Needless to say, despite the doctor's warnings, my little brother reached adulthood. He went on to become a Director of IT for a company, got married, bought a nice house and had three beautiful children.
While
his kids were still young, my brother's health began to decline. He
could no longer drive long distances safely, so I helped him work with
his HR department to arrange a telecommuting option. This was a golden
opportunity, as it enabled him to spend even more time with the ones he loved
dearly.
Then
came the terrible news, his marriage was ending. While loosing his wife was horrific enough, being
separated from his children was unbearable.
So he fought hard to have the kids with him every other day as well as alternating weekends. He was there to walk them to/from the bus stop, check their homework, make them dinner, read to them, and tuck them in at night. He attended school plays, games and every function that was important to the kids.
I think the kids realized something was wrong with their daddy. Unlike other dad's, he went to the doctors a lot and had many brain surgeries; they'd visit him in the hospital when they were old enough.
Just as the last of the kids entered grade school, my brother needed to use a cane to manage his balance. They had no qualms about his handicap; they'd play with his cane or hang on to it instead of his hand when they walked together. It was part of who their daddy was.
As they grew older, I could see how even the youngest instinctively knew when to use her slight weight just enough to counter the way dad would suddenly lean when he was distracted, helping him to stay balanced.
In 2010, we needed to rent a scooter for him at our annual family trip to a local amusement park. The kids had the best time with that; they'd fight over who got to ride with daddy on the scooter between the rides. In fact, riding the scooter with daddy was the BEST ride in the park.
...
My brother had a stroke around 8pm on April 1st last year (2011). His ex-wife had just dropped off the kids for the weekend. They were worried when the ambulance came to take their unconscious father to the hospital. It wasn't the first time; he's been rushed to the hospital many times in their short lives. But he always came back home.
Always.
This time he didn't. He lasted a few more hours, enough for my sister, mother and I to arrive and say goodbye. My other brother had only just landed in NY on his mad-dash flight from San Diego when our little brother breathed his last.
* * *
It wasn't until I was going through some pictures following his death that I realized there was something my little brother did consistently. He always did things with and for the kids first. His house was badly in need of repairs and cleaning at times, but there was always time to play.
Even when low-points of his condition created severe migraines or caused him to sleep deeply for hours through the day, his kids would play quietly around him, being near to him. Some day's he'd wake up to discover his daughter had surrounded him with little paper tanks she folded when he was sleeping. There was even the time their mischievous aunt helped them build a playhouse over daddy- couch and all.
The middle-child was the one closest to my brother. He was the one who had his own head shaved every time daddy needed his head shaved for surgery. He was the one that laughed the loudest and stuck by his dad's side through thick and thin....
He was the hardest hit when daddy was no longer a part of his young life.
The video shows the last birthday this child shared with his daddy. It was a common moment perhaps shared countless times between the two, but none of us ever knew it would be the last time...
A few months ago, the anniversary of their dad's passing, this child asked for some things he wanted to have. While the house they spent many happy memories with their dad had since been cleared out and sold, my mom kept a few items that belonged to my brother.
The first item he asked for was my brother's cane. This I think is a very big part of their memories of daddy. This was a part of him. In the last few years, he couldn't walk across the room without it. Now he is in a place where he no longer needs it.
The youngest had made a drawing to place in her daddy's casket. It was her memory of the two of them picking apples. He was holding her up so she could reach the apples on the tree branches. Leaning in easy reach against the tree's truck is that ever-present cane.
The second item the middle-child requested was a surprise to us. When my brother decided to try to meet someone new, after the divorce, he tried to create a roguish appearance. His hair, after all those surgeries, was thinned if not completely gone in sections. So he shaved it all off and grew a goatie instead.
Then one day the family noticed a new image on his FaceBook account. My brother had gotten a new hat, and wore it quite frequently at family gatherings as well as on dates.
His son wanted that hat.
When we dug it out, I expected that it would be far too big for his young head. After all, my brother was 6'7" and had a big head to match. But, remarkably, it fit the son's head perfectly! He was a dapper young man wearing his dad's hat and strutting with his dad's cane.
It was the first time I've seen even a hint of a smile on that child's face for a year.
---
Like my little brother, each of us are only here a short time. We never know when our life will end, we only know the moment we have in our hands. If my brother had worked long hours, or only saw them every-other weekend, or focused on the to-do list at home, I don't think he would have built the close ties he had with his kids. It's true he only had a short time with them; none had yet reached middle-school when he died.
But they do have some beautiful memories that they can share for the rest of their lives.
Happy Father's Day - may you share it with those you love.
~ ESA
So he fought hard to have the kids with him every other day as well as alternating weekends. He was there to walk them to/from the bus stop, check their homework, make them dinner, read to them, and tuck them in at night. He attended school plays, games and every function that was important to the kids.
I think the kids realized something was wrong with their daddy. Unlike other dad's, he went to the doctors a lot and had many brain surgeries; they'd visit him in the hospital when they were old enough.Just as the last of the kids entered grade school, my brother needed to use a cane to manage his balance. They had no qualms about his handicap; they'd play with his cane or hang on to it instead of his hand when they walked together. It was part of who their daddy was.
As they grew older, I could see how even the youngest instinctively knew when to use her slight weight just enough to counter the way dad would suddenly lean when he was distracted, helping him to stay balanced.
In 2010, we needed to rent a scooter for him at our annual family trip to a local amusement park. The kids had the best time with that; they'd fight over who got to ride with daddy on the scooter between the rides. In fact, riding the scooter with daddy was the BEST ride in the park.
...
My brother had a stroke around 8pm on April 1st last year (2011). His ex-wife had just dropped off the kids for the weekend. They were worried when the ambulance came to take their unconscious father to the hospital. It wasn't the first time; he's been rushed to the hospital many times in their short lives. But he always came back home.
Always.
This time he didn't. He lasted a few more hours, enough for my sister, mother and I to arrive and say goodbye. My other brother had only just landed in NY on his mad-dash flight from San Diego when our little brother breathed his last.
* * *
It wasn't until I was going through some pictures following his death that I realized there was something my little brother did consistently. He always did things with and for the kids first. His house was badly in need of repairs and cleaning at times, but there was always time to play.Even when low-points of his condition created severe migraines or caused him to sleep deeply for hours through the day, his kids would play quietly around him, being near to him. Some day's he'd wake up to discover his daughter had surrounded him with little paper tanks she folded when he was sleeping. There was even the time their mischievous aunt helped them build a playhouse over daddy- couch and all.
The middle-child was the one closest to my brother. He was the one who had his own head shaved every time daddy needed his head shaved for surgery. He was the one that laughed the loudest and stuck by his dad's side through thick and thin....
He was the hardest hit when daddy was no longer a part of his young life.
The video shows the last birthday this child shared with his daddy. It was a common moment perhaps shared countless times between the two, but none of us ever knew it would be the last time...
A few months ago, the anniversary of their dad's passing, this child asked for some things he wanted to have. While the house they spent many happy memories with their dad had since been cleared out and sold, my mom kept a few items that belonged to my brother.
The first item he asked for was my brother's cane. This I think is a very big part of their memories of daddy. This was a part of him. In the last few years, he couldn't walk across the room without it. Now he is in a place where he no longer needs it.The youngest had made a drawing to place in her daddy's casket. It was her memory of the two of them picking apples. He was holding her up so she could reach the apples on the tree branches. Leaning in easy reach against the tree's truck is that ever-present cane.
The second item the middle-child requested was a surprise to us. When my brother decided to try to meet someone new, after the divorce, he tried to create a roguish appearance. His hair, after all those surgeries, was thinned if not completely gone in sections. So he shaved it all off and grew a goatie instead.Then one day the family noticed a new image on his FaceBook account. My brother had gotten a new hat, and wore it quite frequently at family gatherings as well as on dates.
His son wanted that hat.
When we dug it out, I expected that it would be far too big for his young head. After all, my brother was 6'7" and had a big head to match. But, remarkably, it fit the son's head perfectly! He was a dapper young man wearing his dad's hat and strutting with his dad's cane.
It was the first time I've seen even a hint of a smile on that child's face for a year.
---
Like my little brother, each of us are only here a short time. We never know when our life will end, we only know the moment we have in our hands. If my brother had worked long hours, or only saw them every-other weekend, or focused on the to-do list at home, I don't think he would have built the close ties he had with his kids. It's true he only had a short time with them; none had yet reached middle-school when he died.
But they do have some beautiful memories that they can share for the rest of their lives.
Happy Father's Day - may you share it with those you love.
~ ESA
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