Just Breathe (Losing a Loved One)

It’s only been a few hours since I watched Alex die right in front of me.  He would have been my brother-in-law if I were married.  I could go down the whole “I can’t get married and here’s why..” pitch, but for now I’ll leave it the hell alone.

My weeks have been spent trying to hold my family together.  After a seizure at work in November, Alex was diagnosed as not only being HIV positive but possessing a brain tumour that couldn’t be removed.  Talk about a bad day.  The doctors gave him six months.

He went through all the normal stages of grief when you receive a diagnosis like this.  Anger, resentment, fear – you name it.  About three weeks ago, he came to the States because he wanted to spend his last bit of time with Simon and I.

Simon is his twin brother.  There was no need for a discussion.  You do for family, it’s that simple

The cancer and HIV took over very quickly.  The pressure created in his brain pushed against his optic nerves and he wasn’t here two weeks before he lost his sight entirely.  Soon after that, the seizures started up again with a vengeance.  As of today, he’s had a total of 51 of them, most were grand mal.

Nobody should have to live like that.

Right up until the end, he had a squadron of people around him to provide love.  His parents are here, as is my grandmother, me, Simon and most importantly Jason – the 16 year old love of my life.  (If you don’t know who he is, look through my other posts for details).  He never wavered once in treating Alex as though nothing was wrong.  Alex was bed-ridden, spending most of his conscious hours either in a seizure or recovering from one and there’s Jason – yammering away about God only knows what while he changed the sheets on the bed or just sitting with him to hold his hand.  I think more than anything those chats Jason and he had are what brought Alex the most peace.

And I go through my days, holding my breath.  Praying for a little more time before the other shoe drops.

Simon is not well suited to handle all of this.  He has no coping mechanisms that you or I may have learned and watching his brother die right in front of him is more than he can endure.  He’s not even able to be in the room when Lex would have a seizure.

During one of the worst ones, as I tried to turn Alex on his side to keep from swallowing his tongue, he got ahold of me and bit down for the length of the seizure.  It’s going to leave a hell of a mark and I’ve already been to the hospital today due to it being infected.  Over the next few weeks, my own HIV status is now going to come into question as I hope the cocktail of meds I’m on does the trick to keep me negative.  I’m sure I’ll have more to write about on this over time.

I took it upon myself to lie to Alex when he felt the bandage on my arm and asked me what happened.  Clumsy me and that damn stove, burnt the crap out of my arm and it hurts like hell thank you for asking.  Telling him the truth would have served no purpose and the Goddess will forgive me for lying.

When it was my turn to camp out with Lex (we all took shifts), I spent most of my time in bed with him so that he had somebody to hold him, stroke his face and let him feel that another human loved him.  When he finally did manage to get some sleep I would work on this site next to him.  He would coerce me into telling him what I was writing and then proceed to correct my grammar.

You may not have ever known this about me, but I play the violin.  Quite well, so I’m told.  I have a few musical talents, but the violin is what meant the most to Lex.   He insisted that my playing is what would help him fall asleep, and I would play today just as I always had.

I picked Mozart’s Violin Concerto #5.  It’s really a piece for orchestra (the title is a giveaway, people), so I had to make some adaptations to keep it consistent.  It’s also not so maudlin as many classical pieces can be.  It’s light enough to keep you from wanting to reach for the nearest razor blade and open up a vein.

I thought my changes to the piece stunk, but I could see Alex’s breathing settle into a rhythm.  Eyes closed and he’s relaxed.

Breathe, Daniel.  Try and remember how the fuck this piece goes.  Keep playing.

By the time I had finished, Alex was gone.

My family is understandably devastated, but I don’t think any of us are sorry he’s gone.  His suffering is over and the time will come when our hearts don’t ache as much.  For now, we know he’s at peace and his final days were filled with love and the occasional laugh.

Just Breathe (Losing a Loved One), 9.7 out of 10 based on 6 ratings

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