change of plansJuly 24, 2012
My brother is coming home. On Sunday, he collapsed and blacked out from a severe asthma attack while on a 15-mile run. They took him in an ambulance to the emergency room, where they coaxed his heart back to a regular rate of beating, and now they are sending him back.
He called my mother from an unknown number at the hospital. He was crying and telling her he was so sorry, that he didn’t want anyone to be disappointed in him. He begged them to let him stay. We were all so upset on Sunday; all we had were fears that he will return discouraged and depressed, more lost than not, his zipped-up plan unraveled.
I wanted to take it all away from him, a feeling I’m sure many have, in the past, felt about me. Things I could not immediately tell him but wanted to: It’s not your fault, you are 21 with a world of opportunity before you, you are so good, we are still proud of you for trying. A lot of us would never try.
Yesterday, my mother spoke to him again. “I’ve learned so much about myself,” he told her. He said he knows now that he grew up so privileged and failed to see it. “When I come home, no matter what I do, I will give it 150 percent,” he said.
And then I cried some more, because how can a person be so good? Who he is becoming continues to amaze and encourage me.