Saying Goodbye

I have been thinking of my brother, Stephen, a lot lately.  He died this past summer from cancer.  He was diagnosed early in 2013 of esophageal cancer.  He sent me a text message back in February of 2013 saying that he had started chemo andwas hoping for the best.  I went to SC in May of that year when he had his surgery.  He was living in SC alone and I figured I could look out for his best interests while he was in the hospital and help him once he got home.  His surgery was a major one and, with my help, he survived the whole hospital process.  He didn't really need a lot of help from me at home and I left once I saw that he was capable of handling his meds and his feeding tube.  He was able to go to the beach in NC that July.  His surgery was followed by another round of chemo.  I was so sure he would survive the cancer even though the statistics for his kind of cancer were not good.  It was, after all, found early.  A year after his original diagnosis, it was found that his cancer had returned.  He started chemo again but it didn't go well.  At some point, he opted to try a clinical trial for an experimental drug.  By July, he was on a fast downward spiral.  In early July, he was having trouble walking and talking.  A brain tumor ( or more accurately, three brain tumors ) was discovered.  He had surgery to remove the one operable tumor.  After that, it was a series of one sibling or another going to SC to stay a few days or a week.  He didn't want too many people with him at one time.  I contacted hospice for him but he didn't feel ready for that.  He was hoping to try gamma knife radiation for the other 2 tumors.  Three weeks before he died, he was talking about selling his house and getting a house on one level.  But he was talking about having one built.  He refused to make out a will.  He refused to sign a DNR.  In the meantime, one sister flew down from MA, one came from Vancouver, one came from AZ, a brother came from GA.  We tried to take turns.  He had a wonderful friend from work who came to his house every day after work to sit with him and help him in any way she could.  He didn't mind having Sandra there.  His friend Leo came from MA to stay with him for the duration.  A couple of days before my last trip to SC, he went to the hospital again.  I was able to get him home and under hospice care just two days before he died.  The last night he was alive, Sandra and Leo and I and some other friends sat around his bed, drinking bourbon and ginger, talking to him and about him.  Every now and then he would throw in a comment.  He died the next afternoon.  He had no wake, no funeral, per his request.  His family and friends did not get to gather one last time and remember him.  He was cremated and his ashes are now in MA awaiting a final disposal. It has always felt like we never got to say goodbye.  It was better than a sudden death because we almost all got to see  him one last time.  And, as much as I don't like the tradition of a 2 day wake and a funeral, I felt like we missed something.  We tried to have a makeshift memorial service at Thanksgiving but it didn't feel right.

This is the last photo of him taken a couple of months before his death.  He looks happy and not so sick.  Rest in peace, Stephen.  We all miss you.