Where to begin... my brother, Kevin, was two years younger than me. We were inseparable for most of our lives. Growing up, our parents were working an hour away and then attending college in the evenings. So it was Kevin and I looking out for each other most of the time.
Kevin wasn't perfect, but that's for another post. In all reality, none of us are without faults. But he was my baby brother, and despite the flaws, I loved him dearly. A decade ago, I was watching the demons win the battle with him. He lived with my son and I, and it was getting dangerous for all involved. Out of sheer desperation, my 22 year old son and I attempted an intervention with Kevin. But Kevin was not receptive, and he moved back to Omaha and we did not speak again for over 10 years. He gave me no address or phone number or even called to touch base.
In April of 2022, Kevin was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer. Our mutual friend, who always kept me posted on Kevin and his life, told me the news. It broke my heart to know that there was nothing I could do to help him. And I tried to come to terms with the fact that I would probably never see my brother again. However, I was able to keep track of Kevin's condition through our friend and I am eternally grateful to her for that.
In November, I received a call from our cousin and her daughter, who informed me that Kevin was in very bad shape. They voiced concerns about the care he was receiving and asked if I would help them try to convince him that his plans to travel to Atlanta, and then on to Florida, were very ill advised considering his health. I agreed to join by phone and I'm so glad that I did.
Kevin and I were able to talk, and both of us were overwhelmed with emotion. We met for breakfast here in Kansas City the next morning as he was on his way to Atlanta. When he walked in to the restaurant my heart broke to see my previously athletic, active brother in the condition he was in. And it was gut-wrenching to have conversations about a future, that I knew we would not have. He will never get to meet my beautiful grandson, or go to Chiefs games on my bus with us. Or go to the lake house. It was heart-wrenching. And both of us agreed that it was 10 wasted years that we couldn't have back.
From that point forward, we had 2 days of being reunited. He went ahead and went to Atlanta, but texted me from the road. Those are texts I will hold forever dear.
And the next day, in the morning before he had the first stroke that would take his speech and right side movement...
He had the stroke during routine testing later that morning. His girlfriend didn't even bother to call me until the next day. When she called, she told me it just happened. But the death certificate and medical records confirmed that it happened 24 hours earlier. Why she chose to not tell us the truth remains a mystery. But that's all for another post....
My biggest regret is not trying to talk him into staying in Kansas City and seeking medical care rather than making the long road trip to Atlanta. He was in no shape to travel, and maybe we could have bought some more time together. Why didn't I try?
Well the only explanation I have is that everyone always uses the word "CONTROL" when it comes to me. And Kevin, rather than accepting his alcoholism as the factor for tearing our family apart, painted the picture that I was the controlling sister who wanted things all her way. There is truth in the fact that I wanted him to contribute to life and find something that brought him joy in this world. But if I had the kind of control he claims, I would have been able to help him face and beat the alcoholism. And I couldn't. There just came a point where I had to get off of the dysfunctional merry-go-round. for my own sake.