A year ago to this day, I spent the day in the ICU hallways of USC Medical Hospital, waiting for news on a medical procedure (which one, I don't recall) to be completed on Rayson. By this point in time, we knew his condition was dire.
In late December of 2012 (a few days before Christmas), he would under go his second major surgery to remove the cancer that was growing rapidly in his brain. The hope was that the surgery would extend his life span just a bit longer. No one had expected what was to happen next.
Rayson was sent back home a few days later, seemingly okay aside from nausea and some minor balance issues. Or at least that's what we thought. He would return to the hospital on New Years Eve.
An unusual dance of returning back and forth to the hospital would occur in the weeks that followed. Eventually it was discovered that he had a brain infection, but by that time, it was too late. Damage to the brain had become far too intensive, leaving him in an almost vegetated state. He'd stare straightforward, usually with little response back. Sometimes a nod, other times a simple "yeah".
The next few months til his passing, I would just sit by his side. Playing music. Holding his hand. Just wanting to grasp every moment I had left with him...
A year ago today, I dealt with the thought of losing my brother.
Today, I celebrate a birthday without him by my side.
It's been 10 months since his passing, and one of the darkest times in my life. The tears would fall randomly on car rides alone, or when I'm mundanely working in the office. I will say that the pain has lessened over time though. I used to cry perhaps several times a week. Might have taken half a year to make it to once a week. These days, it happens once in a while, or when I happen to be blogging on here...
As I see myself growing a year older, I will carry on this burden for the rest of my life: to always reflect and remember, which becomes increasingly difficult, as feelings and memories unconsciously start drifting away.
One time when my brother and I went to the Border's bookstore in the local mall, I recall telling him that I thought about getting this book, I Am America, and So Can You by Stephen Colbert. The Colbert Report was a cable TV show that the both of us enjoyed watching, so he decides at that time to buy it for me. While the book itself isn't terribly memorable (never did finish it), it's one gift I remember him getting me. A gift that shares a common interest and a time together. And for that, I will always cherish.
Wish you were here.
In late December of 2012 (a few days before Christmas), he would under go his second major surgery to remove the cancer that was growing rapidly in his brain. The hope was that the surgery would extend his life span just a bit longer. No one had expected what was to happen next.
Rayson was sent back home a few days later, seemingly okay aside from nausea and some minor balance issues. Or at least that's what we thought. He would return to the hospital on New Years Eve.
An unusual dance of returning back and forth to the hospital would occur in the weeks that followed. Eventually it was discovered that he had a brain infection, but by that time, it was too late. Damage to the brain had become far too intensive, leaving him in an almost vegetated state. He'd stare straightforward, usually with little response back. Sometimes a nod, other times a simple "yeah".
The next few months til his passing, I would just sit by his side. Playing music. Holding his hand. Just wanting to grasp every moment I had left with him...
A year ago today, I dealt with the thought of losing my brother.
Today, I celebrate a birthday without him by my side.
It's been 10 months since his passing, and one of the darkest times in my life. The tears would fall randomly on car rides alone, or when I'm mundanely working in the office. I will say that the pain has lessened over time though. I used to cry perhaps several times a week. Might have taken half a year to make it to once a week. These days, it happens once in a while, or when I happen to be blogging on here...
As I see myself growing a year older, I will carry on this burden for the rest of my life: to always reflect and remember, which becomes increasingly difficult, as feelings and memories unconsciously start drifting away.
One time when my brother and I went to the Border's bookstore in the local mall, I recall telling him that I thought about getting this book, I Am America, and So Can You by Stephen Colbert. The Colbert Report was a cable TV show that the both of us enjoyed watching, so he decides at that time to buy it for me. While the book itself isn't terribly memorable (never did finish it), it's one gift I remember him getting me. A gift that shares a common interest and a time together. And for that, I will always cherish.
Wish you were here.
BY PATRICK PU, BROTHER