Write About a Time When You Felt Loved


https://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/hello-february/

I write for Kellie Elmore, and it is a pure joy.

 

Feb. 17th,-Write about a time when you felt loved

 

I have told this story too many times; but here is an opportunity to tell it once again, for Kellie’s prompt.

My brother had Multiple System Atrophy. It is a terrible disease with no cure. His body started out with tremors, then falls, a cane, wheelchair and then bed bound. During this process, he lost his ability to communicate by mouth, or other variations I could think of.

Eventually, he ended up in his bed, unable to move any muscles. The one muscle that he needed the worst, was the heart, and it eventually stopped also.

Al, my brother, had issues. He was mentally challenged and he had always lived at home with our parents. Our father didn’t understand my brother very well, and a lot of times it was easier for the two not to be together too often.

Communication was not very good between the two, and there was love between father and son, but it wasn’t shown near enough. Our mother passed away, and then it was dad and Al.

Then dad passed away, and then it was me and Al. I took care of  him those seven years while we fought together the MSA. Al tended to look at me as some big boss. I hated that because I wanted him to see me as his sister. He saw me as an authority figure, and transferred his ill feelings from his dad to me.

All those seven years, I spoiled him rotten. I did everything in my power to show him I was not dad. I tried over and over proving to him how much I loved him. I never really knew how Al felt about me, and it disturbed me so very much; especially as his death was something we could not avoid coming.

As I said earlier, Al lost all muscle control. We don’t think about what that really involves, so I will add a few things it changed in his life. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move his head, arms, legs. He couldn’t blink or squeeze my fingers. There was nothing to signal except the rise and fall of his lungs.

I pretended that he could hear me. I refused to believe he couldn’t. You see, with M.S.A. usually the memory stayed in tact. I was told he probably would never forget who I was to him.

We went for several weeks with me reading to  him, watching TV with him. I knew he couldn’t see the TV, but I was pretty sure he could hear it. I rubbed his hand and told me how much I loved him.

One day as it was nearing a few days before his passing, something major happened in his and my life. Al spoke. It wasn’t fog; it was clear as a bell. He opened his eyes, which I hadn’t seen those baby blues for so long and he looked right at me.

He said, ” Sis, I want to thank you for being my sis. I want you to  know that I know you did everything for me you could. It is time for me to go to heaven. Remember one thing for me. I love you sis, and I will save a spot in heaven for you”.

I am crying as I write this. Those words meant more to  me than probably anything else in this world except the birth of my three children. The burning question that had kept me up for nights upon nights and had stressed over for so long, had been answered. He loved me.

I miss you brother dear. I will see you soon.

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