I know it was at some point this week, 15 years ago… I was searching for a flight. (ANY FLIGHT!!!) A flight from Minneapolis to the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas. My mother had called me; Kory, my brother, was shipped stateside. He was active USA Army, stationed in South Korea, (incidentally where we had adopted him from 27 years prior)… he was at the hospital with aggressive cancer, they expected the worse…
Mom had just had gastric bypass surgery, my brothers and sisters were working; two babies from two different siblings (with sweet little families) were due any day… I lived on my own in an apartment with this ‘little’ issue called ‘fibromyalgia’ making it impossible for me to have any kind of schedule…
“Can you get to Kory?”
(“Can I get to Kory?”)
… can i…???
“I will be on the first flight out!”
Rest, my brother, I am on my way.
I can’t make this a long story… it hurts too much, my brother did not last, the fucking, unforgivable cancer took him at 37 years of age. This is a difficult month for me. He died on August 18th, 2003. My family members were all able to see him, tell him we loved him then we had to watch him die… I fucking hate August.