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A Letter To My Big Bro, At Thanksgiving

Dear Jonathan Arthur,

Well, this year will be our first Thanksgiving since you died. And it sucks. I mean, it doesn’t suck- You know how much I love Thanksgiving because I get to hang out with my favorite family ever, AND stuff my face and drink all day long. That stuff’s all still pretty cool. It just really, really sucks that you’re not here to pile your plate with food and then clog my toilet afterwards. Sorry I just told the world about that, but you know it’s true. We all do it. It’s cool. Thanksgiving just won’t be the same without that stuff. It’ll never be the same. I’m trying to accept that- You know, that whole ‘acceptance’ stage of grief- But I’m not sure I ever will. Sometimes if I don’t think about it, I can still sort of pretend you’re still out there somewhere, looking at boobies on the computer. But then I realize you’re not. And holy shit, it’s then that I miss you so much that it hurts. I still cry every single day for you, and every night when I go to sleep, I pray that God will let you come visit me in my dreams. With little Max. And sometimes you do. I’m thankful for that. That even if I can never see you or hear your voice when I’m awake, I get to sometimes when I sleep. It’s not the same, but hey, at least it’s somethin’. I’m also thankful that you’re fully clothed in my dreams, otherwise that’d just be freakin’ weird.

So this Thanksgiving, I’m extra thankful for all of the kickass people I still have here to share food and booze with, and I’m also thankful for all the memories I have with you, and that I got to have you as my big brother. And don’t worry, I’ll still make your disgusting turkey liver crap, even though it makes me want to vomit. Do me a favor and come party with us for a while. Knock some shit off the counter or something. And bring little Max with you. I know you guys are taking care of each other up there.

Happy Thanksgiving, big brother. I’ll eat a giant turkey leg just for you. Well… Sort of for me, too. That shit’s delicious.

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Posted by on November 24, 2014 in Cancer, Life

 

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Go Home, Cancer. You’re Drunk.

October 16, 2013. That’s the day my living nightmare began.

I don’t mean to be overly dramatic here, but until you experience being on the other end of the phone when your mother tells you that your brother has pancreatic cancer, well, you don’t know that that’s really the best way to describe it. A living nightmare. Things like this don’t happen to my family in real life. Things like this happen to OTHER people’s families. Not my brother. Not my 40 year old, good-hearted brother, who’s never done anyone any harm, who’s always been a little socially awkward, but one of the best people I’ve ever known, who’s smarter than he knows, and who’s never really gone out and done much living… This is not allowed to happen to him.

It’s crazy how little everything else becomes when something like this happens. The customer who calls into work complaining about a late delivery, friends complaining about their car problems and work stress… You want to shake them and scream in their face “MY BROTHER HAS CANCER, ASSHAT!!”. But that would be socially unacceptable, I suppose. It’d be cool if I could at least get away with a forehead thunk or something, though.

In the past week, I’ve cried more than I ever have, I’ve slept less than I ever have, I’ve talked to God and told him that he CANNOT, under any circumstances, take my brother yet, I’ve bargained with him and told him I will never ask for anything for myself ever again if he just makes my brother healthy, I’ve asked him to let me take my brother’s place, and I’ve also learned more about pancreatic cancer than I’ve ever cared to know. Crazy holistic remedies I would’ve laughed at 2 weeks ago suddenly become a viable option for helping to cure my brother. I’ve become a pancreatic cancer crusader, all in the hopes that I can somehow make a difference in saving my brother’s life. I’ve even made disgusting cancer-fighting soup that would probably make anyone lose their will to live. But by God, if there’s any chance that cancer can be cured with superfood soup, damn it, I’m gonna try. My brother is not allowed to go yet. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Luckily, my brother looks really, really good bald. Here’s to keeping positive, people. I have a feeling we’re going to beat this thing, because really, that’s all I can do. I know I’m a stranger, but just for a second, ask the big guy upstairs, or ask the universe, or ask whoever you believe in, to please let me keep my brother for many, many years to come. We need all the help we can get.Image

 
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Posted by on October 23, 2013 in Cancer, Humor, Life

 

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