my brother is dead – The Misadventures Of Zu

I think about death sometimes. The finality of it; it’s the end of life as you know it, no more opportunities to re-right a wrong or show love to someone neglected or forgive a wrong or just have a simple conversation.

When I think about how casually we say ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘goodnight’, I wonder how sure we all are that we will indeed see each other tomorrow; if tomorrow indeed ever comes. I know as a Christian we have faith that all will be well and our protection is guaranteed but it really isn’t.

I know its morbid thinking like this but I didn’t appreciate the words “see you later or tomorrow” until November 2011. I lost my brother on November 2011; 11-11-11 has a new meaning to me cos that was the day I walked into the hospital and saw his cold lifeless body on the hospital bed with tubes sticking out of his body. I still see him when I close my eyes sometimes. He was 27 years old. The image above were his farewell message to a friend some days before he was hospitalized.

I guess for me it was a wake-up call for me cos I am always busy – with school work and office work. I hardly have time for anything else. You guessed, I’m single and I have a demanding job that requires me to be everything to everyone.

When he was in the hospital, I was shuttling work and preparing for my exams. I was there but I wasn’t really there. I guess that’s what gets me more, the fact that I took for granted that he was recovering and would soon be discharged that I went on with life as usual, juggled things around to accommodate visits to the hospital. Boy was I wrong.

Had I known that his getting better was a preamble to death, then I would have made time – postponed my exams, taken a leave of absence from work, camped at the hospital, spent every time I had talking to him, laughing with him and making him happy during the 2 weeks we had him.

Had I known never solved anything I know but it’s a hard feeling to shake. I still cry every time I pass by the hospital or remember one of his jokes but they are not all sad tears because I know he was a good kid, with a big heart who was loved by many.

I stumbled on an old recording I had of him singing and playing his guitar and my heart literally stopped for a second and I could barely breathe and the tears came rushing back. I thought I was better, his passing being almost 7 years now but I think you never really heal, never get over it. The pain lingers just beneath the surface waiting to surprise you at unexpected moments.

The point of this tirade is this: