It’s been awhile since I have actually sat down to purposefully write something.
I know it’s mostly based out of fear and avoidance, but I do think about writing, I want to write…this time, however…
I knew I had to write.
For me, for my sister, Sarah…for the love and sadness I still carry inside since her death from cancer in 2007. So, here it goes.
6/23/23
I’m presently sitting on a patio in Hydra, Greece in what can only be defined as one of the most beautiful places on earth. The villa I have rented last minute, is stunning.
The view, even more so.
While having a glass of wine and reading a book out on the patio, I see a yellow butterfly as it drifts from flower to flower in the garden next to me, and my heart stops.
I smile.
I remember my sister.
I start to cry…and the feelings of sadness, guilt, happiness, love and remorse all wash over me in an instant.
And I drift back in time, just as church bells begin to toll below.
The day Sarah left this physical realm we call earth, is of course one I will never forget.
How could I? I mean, I killed her after all.
Sarah, my little sister, lying in bed in her childhood home, riddled with a cancer that had come back aggressively, was dying in front of me and our mom, dad and little brother, all because I didn’t have the courage to stand up for her when she couldn’t, I didn’t fight for the more Doctor recommended, No…Doctor Demanded treatment regimens.
You see, my little sister had been through 6 of the 8 recommended, NO…Demanded chemotherapy treatments and after the 6th one, after she spent her 30th birthday on the 7th floor of the Seton Hospital Cancer Wing shivering, bald and bloated, all the while hiding her pain, sadness, anger and fear from her big brother so he (me) wouldn’t fall apart
(or fall more apart), in a room that was sterile, cold and miserable by all accounts, it was then that she made up her mind that she had had enough, enough of cancer.
“Fuck Cancer, Fuck This” she said.
The doctors had just come to us earlier that day and told us that the latest scans did NOT detect cancer (Yay!) but in the interest of following science (which turns out to also be an art) they recommended, NO… Demanded, that she finish all 8 treatment protocols.
You have to be SURE, they said.
Well, the scans said all clear, we said, so why the extra treatments?
Because you have to be SURE, they said.
Fuck That. Sarah said.
I backed up my sister. Fuck that I agreed.
It was her pain, her body, her right…And fuck, she was just hurting, so badly.
Even if she tried to hide it…you could tell. It was awful.
But I knew in the back of mind and more importantly in my heart…that we were making the wrong decision.
We needed to finish the protocol.
We HAD to finish the protocol.
But I kept silent.
And my silence killed my little sister.
I didn’t want her to be in pain anymore.
So, I stayed silent.
But Scott, you didn’t make that choice! You just honored your sister’s choice!
Not true.
Not even close.
See, I had the power to alter that choice as the older brother, as the “wise” one, as the surrogate patriarch of our clan. I was used to willing my way, no IMPOSING my way with my family and loved ones in matters that concerned me or even when I thought matters might concern me.
No one was immune to my bullying if I wanted it done MY WAY.
I didn’t get to where I was in life by listening to others.
Fuck that shit.
I was always right. And I made damn sure people knew it.
But the one time I might actually really be right…I kept quiet.
I shut the fuck up, for once.
And it was the one time I shouldn’t have.
In a sea of “It’s my way or get out of my way” conflicts with others, I failed the one time it mattered. The other conflicts or episodes in comparison, didn’t mean shit.
Hell, I can’t even recall one good battle I “won” when I was raining down and espousing righteous indignation from my bully pulpit on others whom might disagree with me.
Seriously. Nothing good comes to mind. I was a jerk. Most of the time.
Maybe all the time. Hell, I don’t know anymore.
All I know is, my sister is dead because I didn’t fight for her. When she could no longer fight for herself I curled up in a little ball and shied away from battle, and I let her die.
It haunts me every day.
So, drifting back...there I was at 1:13 pm on a beautiful fall day, standing at my sister's makeshift home-hospice bedside with my family, having spent a sleepless night lying next to her; holding her hand, talking to her about childhood memories we shared while she was in a morphine induced sleep, praying for God to take her cancer away and to please just give it to me instead…
It was then that my sister Sarah took her last breath in front of of us all.
The sun was shining through her bedroom window, casting an angelic glow across her face.
We all cried silently, all of us holding her hand or touching her feet, stroking her face…just being with her in some way as she passed on…
And then suddenly, outside the window and amongst the flowers planted long ago by our mother, appeared two yellow butterflies, drifting up and up, twirling together in their primitive dance to music only they could hear…
One I assume guiding the other, to somewhere more beautiful…than here.
And now, here I am watching a Yellow Butterfly dance in the garden that someone else’s mother planted long ago in a place far away from that childhood home we shared.
And I smile as I think of my sister,
and church bells start to toll somewhere in the distance.
I miss you, Sissy.
Thank you for stopping by today and blessing me with your memory, and your spirit,
and your love.
Always in my heart,
Big Bro.
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