In 2007, on Christmas Day, my brother told me “I love you bunches and bunches” and sent me on my way.
He died three days later of mesothelioma/cancer of the lung.
He was not very old at all, only 53 years young.

I was standing in his doorway and turned to say “good-bye”, as I had done so many times in the past.
He said “Hey”, looked at me over his glasses, smiled and said “I love you bunches and bunches”
I never thought those words to me would be his last.

I told him “I love you bunches and bunches too” trying to hold back my tears.
All the while, I was trying to hurry out the door before he saw in my eyes all my fears.

Eight years later when mom followed my brother, those words too were the last ones we spoke to one another.

Two days before she passed, she told me she was ready and that she “just wanted it to be over.”
All I could do was look at her lovingly, nod my understanding and tell her that I love her.

Even though the child in me wanted to scream “No God, please do not take my mother!”
I knew she wanted to go, as she was never the same after the death of my brother.

They say burying a child is the hardest thing to bear.
After my brother passed away, something in my mom was just no longer there.

My sister and I hoped that our mom would snap out of it and come back.
We never understood what it was our brother had that somehow we lacked.

I have always thought that when I lost my brother, I also lost my mom the same day.
She just never had any more interest in me or my sister’s lives in quite the same way.

Life had no meaning for our mother no matter what we said or tried.
It was like that for eight more years until the day she died.

She is with my brother now in Heaven and I am glad she is no longer in pain.
I guess with him she is basking in sunlight but down here with us, it was always just rain.