I grew up in a large family.

My brother and I, just a year apart, were both "middle children."
We were also best friends throughout our childhood and adult years.

We did almost everything together throughout our childhood.
We stayed in touch, making daily calls to one another, even the years we'd lived in different states. It was an interesting relationship, as although we had a history together and shared some interests and a whole lotta love, our adult lives were almost completely different. Our love for one another overrode everything, always.

He had a huge heart and was a lot of fun. At the same time, he'd suffered in his private life with severe alcoholism, PTSD, bipolar illness and BPD. Yet, please do not ever think his "problem list" made him less of a person and a burden in any way. He was a giant in so many ways. His love for people never stopped. He would give the shirt off of his back to help someone, anyone in dire need. He was so sensitive, so kind, such an amazing soul!

I was glad I had returned to the same geographical region and was able to spend a couple of years with him before he had suffered sudden peritonitis, multi-organ failure -- and had passed on.

He was such a delightful soul. Such a huge heart!

He had gone through a divorce and I was his "healthcare agent." This meant: When the time came that the surgeons saw no more hope for his recovery, I had to make the decisions for his care. His physicians had asked me to sign the paperwork to withdraw care, to allow his very ill body to end the struggle.

It has taken me several years and I continue adjusting to the loss of my brother, my dear friend.

However, I never want to see anyone suffer the way his physical body was suffering, trying to fight a battle which had been lost. Once two EEGs had shown he was brain dead and doctors had said they could do nothing more, had no further hope, it was time to let him go.

I had called a "family meeting" which was held in a huge conference room at the hospital. I invited his children to sit front and center, encouraging them to ask any questions they had of the physicians in the room. Once the meeting was over with, there was clear family consensus.

Signing the paperwork to withdraw care was one of the most loving things I could have done for him at that time. The last time we were able to communicate, he had told me he was ready to go. We'd had many heart-to-heart discussions. He had assured me of many things, things which made it easier to let him go when the time came.

With great sadness, love, compassion -- and with celebration, I then let him go.

Today is the anniversary of his independence from pain and suffering.

I still miss him terribly. Yet, today, I celebrate all we'd shared together -- the sad and difficult times, the love and the fun. My life has been greatly enhanced by his life and his Love. I could not have done this life without him.
I am so grateful I've had him as a brother.

Until we meet again, Dear Brother!

You have my Eternal Love and Gratitude,

WC