I was 15
and my sister was about 24 when she passed.
Being the youngest of 4 siblings,
I got to spend the least amount of time with her,
which meant less time to strengthen our bond
and create memories.
She also only lived with us for, at most,
a year and a half before we'd move elsewhere,
with her staying at a different residence.
I was mostly raised with my older brother and other older sister,
but I still loved her all the same.
My sister had always had an issue with Asthma,
like my brother,
but unlike her,
he didn't smoke and she did.
I don't remember when they were diagnosed,
but I don't think any of us at the time thought Asthma was a serious illness,
and I never stopped to think that
maybe her smoking habit would worsen her condition
to the point that it would be a disability.
I look back now
and I realize how severe my sister's condition really was,
because small things
like dust,
cut grass,
too cold or too warm air would make her cough uncontrollably
and trigger severe Asthma attacks.
I feel partially responsible for not trying hard enough
and allowing her to continue to smoke
and slowly damage her body
right before my eyes.
Every day,
she'd need to plug a machine and cover her entire mouth with an Oxygen mask
to help her breathe.
Her Asthma was not some temporary illness that people grew out of
or used an inhaler to help breathe
or stop a wheezing problem.
Her Asthma
was a result of her airways narrowing,
and becoming inflamed
causing her chest to feel tight
and her gasping and coughing from lack of air to her lungs.
She'd occasionally use her inhaler to help
relax the muscles in her airways to help her breath
and even though it did,
her smoking habits worsened her Asthma
and caused her to rely on her breathing machine instead.
The entire house would echo with the sound of the machine,
every time it was on
letting us know she was there.
But one night,
I woke up from a nap and didn't see my sister beside her machine.
She was gone from the house.
My mom told me she had been sent away in an ambulance
because she was unable to breathe.
During my sister's hospital stay,
my mom would spend days away from the house
so she could be at her bedside.
While she was there,
my sister's two children,
a boy and a girl around the age of two
who we referred to as
"the twins,"
because they were,
stayed behind at home.
I never visited my sister in the hospital.
I should have tried
but I was a lazy person
who had severe social anxiety
and didn't like going outside
when I didn't need to.
Not to mention,
we were not very stable financially
so I would either have to walk to the local hospital
or catch a bus.
Instead,
I stayed at home with my other siblings,
missing my mom more than anything, since I was closer to her.
I just didn't think my sister's situation was that serious.
Then,
early one morning,
I was woken by my second sister
and told to get ready to leave.
We prepared the Twins,
it was a rainy, wet, miserable day
and we all needed jackets and shoes to protect us from the mud.
All five of us
walked to the hospital in total silence,
apart from the sound of the rain and our footsteps.
We were told straight away that her condition wasn't good,
she hadn't gotten any better.
She could not breathe on her own
and was in a lot of pain!
We stood at the door of her room where she lay
lifeless,
surrounded by some family member
who had already arrived.
I walked up to the bed
and held her hand,
I couldn't bear to see her like this,
why was she still sleeping?
It was then
that my mother told me in a sad tone that, my sister's lungs
were so weak
that they needed to put her into a comatose state
to fix them.
She could not breathe on her own.
I could tell how bad it was
by the way my mom spoke.
She was trying to put on a brave face,
but I could see how sad she was inside.
My sister
was put into a coma
because her condition had gotten progressively worse
with her eventually unable to breathe on her own
and being put on life-support.
My mom
tried everything to keep my sister alive
and on that bed,
but we didn't have a lot of money,
so the doctors told us
our only option...
was...
...to let her go.
My entire family was furious at the doctor
for even saying something like that.
Their job was to save lives,
not suggest that we let my sister go.
I could see in the doctor's face
that he was uncomfortable suggesting the idea,
but as he looked at all of us in that room,
he told us the truth.
That we were only prolonging the process of dying;
not saving her life.
My mother
grabbed my sister's hand and stared at the machines that kept her alive
and opened her ears to the sounds that beeped around her.
This time,
she begged him to do something,
a procedure
or give her trial medications to help her.
He stayed quiet
and said he'd bring in a social worker to help us discuss our options.
Even though my sister was an adult,
it was my mother's decision,
as her next immediate family member
and person paying for her medical treatment,
to decide whether we would turn off her life-support
or continue paying for her hospital stay.
As a family,
we didn't want to pull the plug,
but we were running out of money
and as days passed,
we began to see the color in her skin
and the warmth of her body fade.
For me,
what little memories I had of my sister
were quickly being replaced by an image of her hooked to machines,
lying on a hospital bed.
I began seeing my sister as a hospital patient
more than the person I knew she was
and remembered.
I think my mother began to realize this
over the next few days that she visited her.
It brought her to one of the hardest decisions
she would ever make in her life.
We brought the Twins in
and let them lay next to her.
They must have been put-off
by all the technology hooked up to her motionless body
because they whined to be picked back up.
When it was my turn,
I approached her bed and slowly put my head next to her
and whispered the only words that came to me into her ear,
"I love you".
My aunt hugged and assured me that she heard it.
I wasn't so sure,
but I felt a few moments of calm, and happiness
hoping that this was what she wanted.
Then,
that calm, soon turned into commotion
as a nurse entered the room and informed us
that it was time to let her go.
Everything
went in slow motion,
but also very quickly at the same time.
The nurse approached my sister by the bedside
and removed the tubes from her nose.
We all held hands pleading
and begging for her to take a breath on her own.
We wanted a miracle to have her take a breath
and see her chest lift
on her own.
The room grew silent
and within a few short seconds,
all I heard
were tears dropping to the floor
and the silent breaths of air being held by everyone.
I looked at my sister
and knew this was the last time I would ever see her alive.
Her mouth was open, like a fish out of water
from when the nurse pulled her breathing tube out.
Her skin pale and dry,
her body motionless and calm.
We gathered around,
letting her know we'd always love her
and saw her heart rate monitor beep
for the final time.
The months after her passing,
I battled with myself and my own grief.
I was envious of the bonds that everyone else had with her
that I didn't get a chance to build.
I was still sad,
of course,
but just not sad enough to keep crying.
I was so envious of my other relatives,
because most of them had taken pictures with my sister,
and I had none.
I felt so guilty for not trying harder to be her friend like everyone else.
I should've been grieving just as hard,
but I wasn't.
I had great memories of my sister,
kind, helpful, funny,
always looking out for my best interests
and trying to give her baby sister good advice,
but,
I pushed her away,
and it took this
to make me realize,
just how much she loved me,
and I loved her.
I could have built the same memories as my other relatives had
if I had just let her in.
I felt intense remorse that our relationship ended this way
and that one of our last conversations
was an argument.
So many ifs,
buts
and maybes.
I just couldn't help think that I was to blame,
that I could have changed things.
If I'd stopped her smoking,
she would still be here now,
If I hadn't complained so much
and actually put an effort into our relationship,
we would have built a stronger bond,
maybe I didn't deserve to spend as much time with her
because I pushed her away.
Over time,
I've learned that I can't hold on to my regrets.
I have to move on and cherish the memories
that I DID make with her,
and not lament over the ones that we could've made
had we been closer.
I've learnt a lot since my sister left us,
every argument we ever had was over petty things
that could have been easily forgiven and forgotten,
and had they been,
we would have built a stronger bond together.
We should always forgive others that are close to us,
especially when its really only petty things,
as no one knows just how much time we have to spend together.
I know now,
I would do things very differently given a second chance,
even if it was just a chance to apologize,
but sometimes
we don't get second chances.