Yesterday it was 2 years since giving a kidney to my brother. While it will always be an anniversary, an important, amazing, celebratory one, the more we move past it, the more it becomes about him, which is as it should be. Dave calls it his rebirthday. Perfect. What an even more remarkable event to celebrate.
2 nights ago he called to tell me it was 2 years since his last dialysis treatment. He was admitted to the hospital a day before me so they could get one last session in before surgery. When looking back at what his life was like then he almost couldn't believe what he lived through: hours in a that chair, bone chilling exhaustion, dietary restrictions, travel bans. He'd call me from a bench near his apartment, too tired to walk with his dog around the block. He didn't remember falling asleep on my couch every time he came over. We'd all whisper to let him get much needed sleep.
He also said he hadn't realized, in the moment, how truly sick he was.
I knew.
That was one of the secrets I kept through our journey. While I blogged every day and was open, often perhaps a little too open, about my experiences, there were parts I never mentioned to anyone.
I thought about writing all that today. In fact, I did. And then erased it all.
It doesn't matter. The past is the past and I am filled with gratitude for this present, my brother healthier and stronger than he's ever been. He called me his hero yesterday. But so much more, he is mine.
Life is good.
Miracles happen.
I am grateful.
And am looking forward to celebrating his 3rd rebirth day.
