Eulogy

LilWifey
LilWifey
Jul 25, 2017 · 5 min read

Growing up, my BigBro was a typical older sibling, and would get mad at me a lot. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it — after all, I was his bratty little sister that would scratch or break his meticulously-cared-for toys. As you may already know, my brother kept up with this attention-to-detail well into adulthood — whether it was keeping his house clean by vacuuming every day or by detailing his cars. Sometimes, he would even be so disgusted by how dirty my car was, that he would clean it if I came to visit him.

Even though BigBro would get annoyed with me, he was never mean. He never tormented me or our younger cousins just for fun. It was quite the opposite — he always took care of us. He always took care of me. He would cook me snacks after school every day: ramen, Spam. And at gatherings, or whenever he was with his friends, he never seemed irritated that I would follow him around. Maybe he was, but he never made me feel like he didn’t want me there.

When I was in middle school, and BigBro was in high school, we had our share of conflicts, of course. He was very strict with me, and I would jokingly tell my friends that he was like my “third parent”. He used to pick me up from middle school, and this one time, when a boy was walking me to the parking lot — I noticed my brother standing outside his car jumping and waving his arms and yelling something, while his girlfriend tried desperately to cover his mouth, laughing the whole time. I finally realized that BigBro was telling me to get away from the boy, and somewhat threatening him — so, the next thing I knew, the boy had taken off. But, I wasn’t mad. Honestly, I would have expected nothing less from my overprotective big brother.

As we grew older, we had less conflict. We didn’t have a lot in common, but that was okay. We still loved each other, and we always good-naturedly teased each other. He would be so silly and snarky sometimes, we would just laugh and laugh whenever we got together.

BigBro was there for me through all of life’s challenges, most especially when I was diagnosed with Lupus while I was still in high school. He worried about me so much because of that, and reminded me on my birthdays how thankful he was that I was still healthy. He supported the Lupus Foundation by running the 5K every year, until his knee made it too painful for him to do so. I was so proud of BigBro’s athleticism and strength. There were times when I thought that he was maybe going a little overboard with his training. But I understood what it was like to have a passion for something — and aside from his family — cycling was it. I admired him for it, and he inspired me to be more physically fit. I would share with him my minor accomplishments as they happened — which were seemingly so small compared to his (something he would remind me of from time to time). But, I knew he was proud of me for trying.

BigBro always tried his best, no matter what he was doing — with school, work, racing — and especially when he was battling cancer. He did everything his doctors told him to do. He endured agonizing side effects, weakness, pain — all things that prevented him from doing the activities that he loved. My brother, the athlete, even let them take his leg.

It was all supposed to be temporary. We told him that he would get his new leg, and that he would be back on his bike, racing, in no time. We joked that we would tell our small nieces and nephews, don’t worry — it’ll grow back, you’ll see.

It was supposed to be temporary.

When my brother was first diagnosed, I was certain that if anyone would be able to beat cancer, it would be him. But I didn’t know what an absolute beast Osteosarcoma would end up being.

I will always remember that night, when BigBro was in the hospital this last time, and we were spending the night in his room. I don’t know how we did it, but with some creative use of chairs, six of us somehow managed to fit by his bedside. I woke up in the middle of the night and found him wide awake watching me. I asked him why he wasn’t resting. He couldn’t speak very loudly at the time, so he just pointed at all of us and smiled. He didn’t want to sleep because he didn’t want to miss seeing us.

During his last few days, BigBro was so worried about us — whether we were all still healthy and whether we were taking care of ourselves despite our grief and stress. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My brother cared for and worried about everyone else.

I see BigBro everywhere — whenever I see a cyclist climbing on his training route, whenever I hear a song from one of his favorite 80s bands, whenever I see a bottle of Orangina, whenever I look up at the sky. When I see something that I think he would enjoy — or experience something and want to share it with him — I remember that I can’t just text him anymore. I can’t just pick up the phone.

As painful as it is to see BigBro everywhere — knowing that I will no longer be able to hug him, or hear him tease me or call me LilSis — seeing him everywhere reminds me that he enjoyed his life, and didn’t waste one moment. He loved his life. He loved his family and friends. Knowing that he was happy throughout most of his time here gives me some comfort and peace. But I will always feel like part of me is missing, that there is this hole in my heart, until the day comes that I see him again.

Rest in peace, BigBro.

Working mother to an active "tween" & min-pin. Wife to my HS sweetheart. "LilSis" & daughter. My family drives me crazy at times, but they are everything.

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