When this has happened to your family, you know that this is not about choice.
The author of this post is known to Mamamia, but has chosen to keep her identity private.
I stood next to my little brother on a cold winter’s morning. As we stood in front of the heater in our jarmmies, mum knelt before us. She took one of our hands each in hers and she said, “last night Sam* died and went to heaven.”
I remember feeling as though my feet extended through the ground and touched the very core of the earth and that I was now rooted in that spot, never to move again.
Roald Dahl’s powerful letter urging parents to vaccinate their children is heartbreaking.
Two years earlier, my brother Sam started losing his balance. This was the start of a long illness. My parents got him tested for all sorts of things, cancer, epilepsy and the list goes on. Initially, the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong but he kept getting sicker.
He was an incredibly gentle soul, but he punched a boy in the eye at school. He was being teased – they told him he was going to die. He was 9 years old.
As time went on, he eventually fell into a coma. His eyes were open and he had a tube fed through his nose into his stomach. We lived in the country and occasionally we would all be pulled from school and piled into the kombi van (there were 6 of us kids in total) and drive the 6 hours it took us to get to Sydney because the doctors said that Sam wouldn’t last the day. When this happened, Sam would be put into a helicopter and flown to a hospital in Sydney.