Dr. Gabor Mate talks about two kinds of people when
it comes to understanding any kind of pain; those who’ve experienced it and
those who are trained to work with it. I happen to fall under both categories.
My life took an irrevocable turn forever, in October 2014 when I heard about
the ‘lesion’ (which turned out to be cancer) in my brother’s brain until four
years later on 29th December 2018, when he left the earthly dimension.
Ever since then, I feel like a walking disclaimer;
except that no one can see its contents. I walk with the disclaimer that I will
never know how to respond when someone uses the word “dead” in a way to express
anything other than actual death. I walk with the disclaimer that when someone uses
the word “cancer” like it’s just another disease that affects just another
statistic, I throb with fear and contempt knowing the damage it is capable of
causing in a home. After this loss, the inner light is dimmer and these words now
hold the reality of what I’ve watched and lived through. These words that I,
too once used loosely now hold all sorts of heavy, new meaning that I can’t
brush past without remembering my brother’s strained half smile with his “good
side” cause the other side was paralyzed during the last month. I can’t move
past words that remind me of my brother patiently leaning against a lamppost (cause
he couldn’t stand without support) in Germany, while waiting for me till I ran
to withdraw cash. I recall the worry of coming back too late and finding him lying
on the ground, but when I rushed back to find him still holding on, still there,
I stopped in my tracks. I stopped to take it in. I felt love, excruciating
sadness and relief. And for a single second, I wished I could turn back time, to
a safer place where he ran marathons and depended on 0 assistance to wear a
glove, in the hope that I would have to never witness someone I love and admire
so deeply just have to… stay there for me, without a choice or bodily control.
Wishes don’t always come true though, but I wish he stayed
longer. Not against that lamppost in Germany, but on earth and in my home.
