It was 10 pm when the gastroenterologist called me and alerted me that your CT scan results needed urgent attention. Since I was within the hospital, I rushed to the doctor’s office, and he handed me a referral letter to the national referral hospital. As I read the CT scan results, I realized that you had small intestines perforations. I rushed to Mr. Google to check the seriousness of the condition, only to find that less than 15% of the patients survived.

As we entered the ambulance, I had my two hands occupied. My right hand held the intravenous fluids for the nurse as he adjusted your seat while my left rubbed your back. We talked throughout the journey, and you occasionally promised me to fight to the end. Despite the torturous pain and occasionally shouting my name and holding me, I had so much hope that you were among the 15% of the condition’s survivors. Upon arrival at the referral hospital, you were scheduled for urgent surgery. As we rushed you towards the theater with the hospital stretcher, you continued promising that you would never leave me.

My sweet brother, I have a few questions for you!!!!!

  • Why did you lie to me that you would wake up?
  • What happened in the theater?
  • Bro, how am I going to live in this world without you?
  • Tell me how your two children and your pregnant wife will survive without you? 
  • Bro, how do I stop thinking about you?
  • July 11th is your birthday; how will I face the day?
  • And lastly, how do I respond to the “Do you have a big brother?” question

They say that people go through five stages of grief, including denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But bro, mine has been complicated. Anger, hysterical crying, and depression have been the order of my day. Occasionally, I also experience “I can’t breathe” moments. All I can say is that you left me with waves of grief and an uprising tide of doubts, and a long list of life fears. But for now, I will try embracing grief because grief exists where a loved one lived first. 

My loving brother, I couldn’t walk this journey alone, and I want to let you know that I have started therapy. After the sessions, I hope that one day I will revisit our memories with no teary eyes. As you turn 41 next week, happy birthday in advance. 

I will always love you

Thank you for being my best friend, my protector, and my cherished brother.