Little Brother 1990 ish...

Back in 1990 my little brother was 11-12 years old. I was still 14 years old

I found out after returning home, my little brother was going to be going into surgery, so they could put shunts in his head to drain the fluid that was surrounding his brain. Remember he has a new brain tumor.
My parents sent me to my aunt’s house because I was always sent somewhere left somewhere or told I was not wanted. I heard those words a lot during those years, you’re out-of-control. You're not acceptable! That my behavior was not what they wanted or would tolerate that I was crazy, and I was an embarrassment to them. I was told this regularly after being slapped beaten up or verbally bashed to the point of crumbling to the floor and hiding under furniture.

My aunt was kind she always was gentle with me. I think she felt sorry for me. She took me to buy some gifts for my brother and took me to see my little brother in the hospital. When I got there he was in recovery, and his head was shaved. He had big bumps with stitches on the top, and was still in an out of sleeping because he had anesthesia plus painkillers.

When he woke up I was crying and it was just he and I in the room, o.k. I was crying a lot. He looked over and said what's wrong? I said just allergies, my eyes burned with tears, and he started singing a little stupid song, we used to sing together when we were young. You see, whenever I needed anything, a friend to play with, or a best friend on the schoolyard. My little brother was there, since I was not a girly girl like my sisters. He was the only sibling, I could relate to. He held my hand when I was scared in my room. He made me laugh and was my strength, when I could no longer be strong. If anyone messed with him and I kick their butt! Now things were different, and he was never going to be the same because he was sick, and might die.

My nightmares had become a reality, and now even when I was crying my little brother who was just out of surgery, was singing a song to make me feel better. This is how special and strong my little brother was and still is. He was always there when you had nothing left to give. He gave it and gave everything he had to you.

My little brother is my hero, and I wish I could go back to those years before he got sick and treasure every moment, because he was never the same after. I can't explain it, unless you have gone through it you don't know how to describe what happens to someone when they get a terminal illness. They go from being the person you've known all your life to a total stranger.
My little brother’s tumor affected the part of his brain that holds his memory. His memory was gone, and he was no longer able to use that part of his brain. I do not know the medical terms or technical area of the brain. However I do know my little brother after chemo, radiation, and surgery over the next 5 years didn’t remember our childhood together anymore.

My mother cried a lot and my father got angry. I'm ashamed to admit I pulled away and got angry to, not at him at the world and at the situation. After my brother came home from the hospital, I didn't go back to school anymore. I started doing home school and helped him with his physical therapy, because my mother had to go to work again. My little brother had to go through chemo and radiation in for a long time.

As I mentioned the part of the brain, the cancer attacked was his memory. My little brother survived with a 3% chance but, he no longer could remember anything he couldn't remember what he did yesterday and couldn't remember what we did five years ago. He no longer had the ability to learn new things and will forever be a child. Between they chemo radiation and the brain tumor, it caused him to have blackouts and other problems as he grew older. The only reason we found that brain tumor in time was because my little brother hit his head in the snow on the youth activities trip. Maybe I knew then that he was sick, and that's why I threw a fit and demanded they call my parents. All I can say is, I would do it all again, if it meant, we just found out a little sooner. My brother would have died if we didn't find out when we did. If I could say anything to him, I want my little brother to know, I'm sorry I wasn't there more often. I am sorry you got sick. I am sorry I was selfish and got angry, and I wish it were I instead of you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I wrote this right after I saw my little brother in the hospital.

I saw him die, but did not cry, because I was now dead inside.
As he walks, he sees a light in the still darkness of the night.
It glows and Flickers very bright.
As he walks closer, he can see, it is death waiting to take him from me.
Then I think why does he have to go, as he begins to glow.
I hold him tight and will never let go.
I will never lose him.
He will never be alone.
I could not live without him.
I could not be that strong.
He loved me no matter what, he is the only one I trust.
So if he dies, I will hold on tight, and I will die to.
My eyes turned black my lips went pale and a small voice whispers. Just let him go..
But I can't ,he is dead so I will die to and there is nothing they can do.
He was my strength, while he was here.
So what else is there to do but sit and wait until I go too.

I think that's the day I stop believing in God. Only thing I could think about no matter how selfish it seemed was why!! If God were great, then why would he make such a beautiful child so sick. Why would he take away the only friend I had and then asked me to be strong. I know these are selfish thoughts, but over the next year I spent so much time trying to find my little brother. I spent time doing physical therapy, going to the doctor's appointment and dealing with my own issues. I just wanted him to come back, but he was never the same. It was like all those years we spent together didn't count anymore. It was if someone sucked all the good parts out of my life.
Eventually I moved farther away from him, because I couldn't stop being angry and frustrated, and the fact that this illness took him from me. I can't imagine what it must have been like for my parent's how did they deal with a child becoming sick, and one day he was normal and one day he was dying.
To this day I cry to bring him it back one day. I might see him in heaven, like I saw him before he was sick, and he would remember me remember the years we spent together. Maybe he will be my little brother again.