Things I Wish I Had Known #14: Don't Forget to Live

Survivor’s guilt. I never question God, but I often wonder why I have been spared the last 35 years after I lost my father and brother within 3 years of each other. I ask myself what deal did I make with the devil. After losing the two most important men in my life, I was blessed with two sons to raise. I love all four of them. I wish the four of them could be together in person. That’s just one of the many scenarios that I have thought about everyday for the last ten years.

If I knew that I would lose my best friend before we turned 30, I wonder what I would do differently. Would I have taken our time together more seriously? Would I have returned a missed call sooner than later? Would I have been more flexible about doing what he wanted? Would I have fought less about what video game he picked? Would I have enjoyed those moments more if I knew they were so fleeting? I also ask myself these questions daily in the 10 years since I lost my little brother, Lateef.

My brother had sickle-cell anemia. It’s an incurable red-blood cell disorder where there aren’t enough healthy red blood cells to carry oxygen through the body, and when the blood can’t carry enough oxygen, it’s a very painful ordeal that guarantees a hospital stay. He dealt with it for as long as I could remember. He often missed school for weeks at a time and pushed himself to catch up to get to the next grade in time.

It never altered the relationship most siblings have. We were two years apart, and we played, fought, stayed up past our bedtime, and hung out with friends like most other brothers close in age. As we grew older, we partied and took trips together. The only thing that was different is sickle cell delayed his growth. He was so short and skinny. The middle school growth spurts we usually all go through never came his way, but when he shot up, it felt like a blink. The kid that was half my size until he was 15. Suddenly, he grew to 6 ft, and I was forced to literally look up to my younger brother.

When my father died 13 years ago, a piece of my soul left with him. Even though I was young, we all know on some level that we will have to bury our parents. It still hurts, but I can accept it. Burying a sibling is something that remains too hard to fathom even 10 years later. I sit here, wondering what I could have done differently.

I truly wish I could have saved them both. My dad needed a kidney, and I volunteered to give him mine, but then, cancer struck. Lateef needed a bone marrow transplant. I went and got tested. We have the same parents, so I thought we would absolutely be a match. We weren’t. I wish I was his match; I don’t know if it would have saved him, but I wish I had the chance to at least try. Survivor’s guilt.

Losing my brother has dictated a large part in how I parent. I try my hardest each day to promote the brotherly bond, love their moments together, and often encourage (or push) my oldest to always look out for my youngest son. Things I hope I did for my brother. Seeing them together, watching their mannerisms, the inexplicable traits often takes me back to thinking about my brotherhood with Lateef. Hoping I did right by him in life, then drifting to wishing we could still have that bond today.

I wish I had more time with him. I wish I knew 10 years ago how losing my brother would alter me as an individual. Survivor’s guilt sent me spiralling mentally for several months where I obsessed with my own death. I wondered which day would be my last. If they were gone, certainly, I would be next. My guilt for living took away from that very thing, living. I know he wouldn’t want that.

What I wish I knew earlier because of this life lesson of loss, is to love the ones you love as hard as you can, cherish them and try to live each day like it’s the best day. Pick up that call, answer that text, go do that thing with your loved ones that you find boring.

To my brother, I know my writing isn’t as good as yours but just know, I tried. Love you.

Written by Rasheed Amoo