I’m never going to see my brother again, I thought, stricken, as my parents discussed how they would pay to get us to Hawaii to say our goodbyes. He was bleeding in his brain and the doctors had all but guaranteed his death. People don’t live through that.
“Someone has to take care of the horses, the dogs, the cats…” my mother trailed off, knowing we couldn’t afford it.
“It’s ok, honey,” my dad said, taking her hand. “I’ll stay. You and Lisa go.”
“No,” I interjected. “I’ll stay. You have to see him, Pops.”
I went back home to feed animals and pay bills, while my brother died.
At least my parents got to see him.