My brother, Noel

He is dying!
That was all that I could think about.
HE CAN’T BE! I just can’t believe it!
 
This feeling has never left me even after so many years. I watched him die. And even to the very end, he struggled to breathe.
 
He didn’t look like he used to, but I knew that it was he. I remember frantically thinking that ‘this is a mistake! He doesn’t look like him, so it must not be him.' But this was insanely wishful thinking was not very appropriate.
 
This misery never leaves, even for a second. I was trapped and held bounded by the shock and truth about death.
 
One may think kindlier about the elder dying. You can excuse with the idea that it was his or her time. But his heart was young and my hand rest upon it as I felt it beat for the last time.
 
I felt his heart stop beating!
 
His chest stop raising!
 
His body stop moving!
 
What fairness could justify such a young man forced off this world.
 
Did he deserve it? No!
 
Was it his time?
 
It must have been and I pondered many times since what he may be like today if he hadn’t needed to go.
 
Those images have burned so very sharply into my memory that at times I pray to forget.
 
But I can’t and don’t really want to. His pain was real and much greater than I have ever known. He deserves to be remembered even if it causes grief.
 
Now, I hope that he knows a new life in heaven like the ones in his dreams.
 
I only have one wish:
 
If I could only see him one more time, speak with him just once more, get close to him for only a moment, then he could tell me that he’s ok.
 
I will never forget you, my brother, Noel.
 
 
Kactus Berry