Getting over stigma of grieving in collegiate setting
Lauren Dillard
Issue date: 6/3/08 Section: Forum
He'd be tall, I just have a feeling.
He'd have brown hair with blondish streaks running through it, just like our dad.
He'd be 18 years old. He'd flash me a lazy smile and go back to reading his book, sitting near a window in his wheelchair.
Even though he would be wheelchair bound, he'd be an athlete. His toned arms would leave him spinning circles around those of us who are bound to two feet. He'd have tricked-out rims on his red wheelchair.
Fourteen years ago today, my brother passed away.
At 4 years old he had the casual wisdom of a 65-year-old man and the dedicated calm of a neurosurgeon.
He was an inspiration to my family and those around him. He was a 4-year-old wise guy that was silent in his pain.
He was my best friend.
He would walk. And then he wouldn't. He would crawl. And then he couldn't.
This little boy's body was eating itself. He was diagnosed with Leigh's Disease, a genetic illness that caused failure of the nervous system.
Also called Leigh's Necrotizing Encephalopathy. Big words for a world of confusion, doctors and tests for such a little boy.
The genetic condition that afflicted his body left him weak, sometimes void of any emotion or facial expression and constantly wheelchair-bound.
He would smile. And then that smile would fade into a painful grimace.
Sometimes I think he is a figment of my imagination.
Now that I'm 20-years-old and live on my own, I have only one picture of him and no other record of him.
At the Barometer, I work with people who are the same age that my brother would be - only two years separated us.
I wonder what he would think of my life now or if he could still look at me and understand me with one passing glance.
An 18-year-old man would be looking back at me today, instead of the cold, expressionless texture of a marble headstone.
It's almost like a dream.
On the anniversary of his death, I don't do anything special. I don't change my routine, but there is something a little bit different about the day.
He'd have brown hair with blondish streaks running through it, just like our dad.
He'd be 18 years old. He'd flash me a lazy smile and go back to reading his book, sitting near a window in his wheelchair.
Even though he would be wheelchair bound, he'd be an athlete. His toned arms would leave him spinning circles around those of us who are bound to two feet. He'd have tricked-out rims on his red wheelchair.
Fourteen years ago today, my brother passed away.
At 4 years old he had the casual wisdom of a 65-year-old man and the dedicated calm of a neurosurgeon.
He was an inspiration to my family and those around him. He was a 4-year-old wise guy that was silent in his pain.
He was my best friend.
He would walk. And then he wouldn't. He would crawl. And then he couldn't.
This little boy's body was eating itself. He was diagnosed with Leigh's Disease, a genetic illness that caused failure of the nervous system.
Also called Leigh's Necrotizing Encephalopathy. Big words for a world of confusion, doctors and tests for such a little boy.
The genetic condition that afflicted his body left him weak, sometimes void of any emotion or facial expression and constantly wheelchair-bound.
He would smile. And then that smile would fade into a painful grimace.
Sometimes I think he is a figment of my imagination.
Now that I'm 20-years-old and live on my own, I have only one picture of him and no other record of him.
At the Barometer, I work with people who are the same age that my brother would be - only two years separated us.
I wonder what he would think of my life now or if he could still look at me and understand me with one passing glance.
An 18-year-old man would be looking back at me today, instead of the cold, expressionless texture of a marble headstone.
It's almost like a dream.
On the anniversary of his death, I don't do anything special. I don't change my routine, but there is something a little bit different about the day.
Note: writers will not reply to comments.
Viewing Comments 1 - 1 of 1
Kendra
posted 6/03/08 @ 4:58 PM PST
Lauren,
Well done.
-Kenny
Post a Comment
Comments by registered users are approved by default.