A Special Kind of Birthday

Today is my brothers thirty-eighth birthday. The day he was born onto this earth, the day we celebrate his life, and the day he is fighting for it. You see, my once strong, healthy, and vibrant brother was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, a cancer of the bone marrow, in May of 2012. There was no song sung today, no gifts opened or candles blown out on a birthday cake. Instead, my now very ill and frail sibling endured a bone marrow biopsy, a blood transfusion, and an MRI.

He was always the quintessential big brother. He protected me when I was a small child from the monsters that I was convinced were living under my bed. He taught me how to ride a bicycle without training wheels and how to use my feet as breaks if I ever got into trouble. He frequently made my school lunches, complete with a heart shaped stamp on the sandwich bread and a note that always read, "Have a great day!" Of course, for every nice and sweet act, there seemed to be three 'mean big brother-isms' that followed. By the time I was ten years old, the worst thing he ever did was hang my favorite teddy bear from the clothesline....I was such a drama queen back then!

Growing up, my brother was almost always my protector. He watched over me and tried to shield me from avoidable pain. He made me laugh when I was sad and gave me hugs when I cried. When he was first diagnosed with leukemia, I was terrified. I searched my brain for an answer or a reason....why was this happening? Why him? Why now? Why, why, why? These questions were floating in and out of my consciousness while my knees were buckling under the weight of his news. Before I completely fell to the floor, my still 'healthy' and strong big brother swooped me up into his ever protective arms, pulled me in and held me close. I sobbed into his chest, all the while listening to him reassure me with, "It's going to be okay Danie. It's going to be okay."

When I spoke to him this afternoon he talked to me about his day. He told me he had a good day because he was gifted a chocolate chip cookie by the nurse caring for him. He also informed me of a hand written note that was attached to the IV bag which read "Happy birthday big guy. Thanks for the smiles!" While I listened to his story and sensed his appreciation, I couldn't help but be thankful and appreciative as well. I was just so thankful I was speaking with him today and able to wish him a very happy birthday.

Since his diagnosis nine months ago, I have given up on finding the answers. I have let go of the fear and sadness that almost completely consumed me not all that long ago. Instead, I have become present in the moment and have begun to fully appreciate the time we share together. I am thankful for his presence now and for his enormous will to live.

Singing a song, unwrapping gifts, and blowing out candles were not what his birthday was about this year. This year, his birthday was about being alive and being so completely thankful for a hand written note and a cookie.

Happy birthday, my brother. I love you.