My last memory with my brother

It has been 3 long weeks since my brother took his own life. Typing those words is so unreal to me. I never thought in a million years that suicide would affect my family. Our family has had a lot of firsts like interracial marriages, babies out of wedlock, even prison, but never this. No one ever imagined this. I have been reading a book a friend got me and I even had to take a suicide prevention class for school this past week and I learned something that made my mouth drop. 42,000 people a year complete suicide. 42,000 families initially affected by this but the ripple effect from suicide affects SO MANY MORE!!!! After someone completes suicide, we all ask ourselves why, what if etc. about the deceased but no one talks, really, about the survivors. The aftershocks of suicide are devastating. No one is ever the same and moving forward isn't as simple as people would like to think it is. We put on a happy face because life has to go on but inside, you seriously feel dead. I am struggling with my brother's decision and sometimes I think that I am being completely selfish. Let me share with you what keeps playing in my head over and over. Maybe you can understand my grief a little more.

This picture right here is the last time I saw my brother. This was December of 2016. I have this picture hanging in my classroom and have had it there since I started working in August. I hung it because I wanted my family around me as I began a new chapter in my life. I look at this picture now totally different than when I hung it. When I first hung this picture, I saw a tired man standing there. A man who had just done his whatever number of surgery for the week and was just spent. Joe was always my hero. I bragged about him any chance I got. I do the same about Mike. My brothers' accomplishments make me proud. They worked their asses off. But now I look at this picture, after knowing everything that I know and I just see a man who is struggling inside with life. There is no emotion behind his eyes here. To put it bluntly, my brother looks completely miserable. I wish I would have known his struggle then because this is the last memory I have of my brother and I was completely oblivious to his pain. This is where I struggle with all of this and why it is important for me to write to heal. My brother and I were not close over the years but we were coming back together. Distance combined with some conflict his ex created caused a huge wedge between us. We spoke when we saw each other, said we loved each other, hugged and kissed when we saw each other, messaged on birthdays and holidays but we never had conversations until recently. My brother was always so out of my league intelligence wise and I always felt dumb around him. I never felt like I was capable of having an intelligent conversation with him. I know that was all my fault because I didn't think highly enough about myself to believe I could talk. After the conflict, I allowed his ex to drive a wedge between us that never really mended the way it should have. What I am saying is that for the past 11 years, I didn't really know my brother other than what everyone else was telling me. I watched him through facebook and always asked my parents how he was but I never reached out the way I should have. Sadly, we didn't really start having conversations again until last August when I found out how badly he was struggling in life. I reached out then. I tried to impart some wisdom, especially since I had experienced a divorce and also a very devastating break up. I invited him to Texas. I spoke about going to church and filling his life with God. I told him about how, with time, he would see better days and that this was the beginning of a wonderful new chapter in his life. I should have said, "Joe, when you're going through hell, keep going." Would it have mattered? Probably not but there's that whole what if. What if I had said the one thing that kept on resonating with him and gave him the desire to live? What if I had been the one. In the end, my brother knew that I loved him and he loved me but I wasn't a thought on his mind because I was not around enough or in his life enough to include my name on his final farewell. Something so trivial hurts my soul so deeply and I almost feel selfish for feeling this way, like im making this about me when I am not. My guilt is that I didn't speak to my brother enough to have ever made a difference in whether he chose to live or die. I should have been a better sister and that is something that I will have to live with. If you are fighting with your family over stupid stuff, fix your crap and call your family, if you are living in another state or country, don't let life slip by without calling your family and keeping up to date. Stay connected to your family because you just never know. I always thought I would have tomorrow to talk to my brother. I always thought that one day we would all be in the same room and we would have a conversation and he would see that I was a changed person and intelligent. I thought wrong. My tomorrow will never come and biggest regret is that I didn't reach out more. Don't let your life get too busy.

Grief is indescribable

Webster defines Grief as “deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement” Do you ever fully understand that definition just by reading it? Grief is so indescribably horrible that mere words just don’t do it adequate justice. Every morning I wake up sad beyond words. It feels like my heart is in my stomach and I can’t breathe. It feels like all the wind has been kicked out of me and it leaves me with a feeling of emptiness that nothing, not food, not drink, not words can fill. As the day progresses, I become riddled with anger, caught between a vicious cycle of wanting to beat the shit out of my ex sister in law, screaming at the world and immediately back to immense sadness, loss and desperation. Society dictates that I not become physical and also, I’m not a violent person, but I can see how and why people in the stages of grief act out. I have pictured myself acting out this week and have had a few opportunities to but because I love my family, Joe and those kids, I had to restrain myself. Feeling angry the way I do right now, I am very thankful that I have found peace with God. She destroyed my brother. She absolutely destroyed him. I’ve begged God at least a million times this past week to wake me up. I’ve begged him to show me that all of this is just a wake up call for me to be a better person just like the movie A Christmas Carol. But, every morning I wake up, there is no sash to throw open and no one to ask what day it is. There will be no turkey to cook and celebration to be had. Every morning I wake up and the day begins again the same way, just like the movie Ground Hog’s Day; sheer and utter anger and sadness. I have found myself hopping back and forth through these stages and even though I know it takes time to heal, I honestly don’t know that there will ever be a healing to all of this. Had this just been an accident or an illness, I could see gaining some acceptance and even a little closure, but how do you heal knowing someone you love isn’t here anymore because they couldn’t do life and they chose to check out? How do you heal when you feel so guilty that even though you offered words of encouragement, nothing could help them find peace? How do you heal when you keep picturing their grief, reliving their last moments in your mind and wishing you could have just taken it from their heart so they could find just a little semblance of happiness? And lastly, how do you heal when you know you should have reached out more but you let your own life get in the way? This is all just too much for me to process and handle right now. Grief is a bitch. I have a psych degree. I have studied text book definitions of grief and even looked at all of the stages in great detail but nothing adequately helps you to truly understand those emotions like getting personally thrown into it. The morning my mother called me to tell me that Joe had killed himself, I felt like I was in a tunnel. Everything began to close in on me and all I wanted to do was get out of my classroom and run. But there was nowhere to run and as a result, everything began to go in slow motion; I couldn’t breathe.  I felt panicky and sick all wrapped into one horrible emotion and for the first time in my life, I felt truly helpless and lost and I didn’t know where to turn or who to turn to. I was shaking so badly. Sadness and anguish just consumed me. Suddenly, I understood those words “deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement.” The feeling is unimaginable and indescribable all wrapped up into one and it truly does distress you. It is not something I wish on anyone but sadly everyone of you will discover it in your lifetime and I am sorry for you. Writing about it helps me clear my mind a little bit but it always leaves me sobbing in the end. I keep picturing my brother’s final hours and picturing how sad and lonely he felt and how much sadness he was experiencing and I feel so damn guilty I wasn’t there for him. Everyone says that it wouldn’t have made a difference because he had made up his mind but what if it would have? What if I could have said the one thing that could have given him hope? Im sure that we all feel that way. The what if’s are too numerous to count. I never thought suicide would rock our family but not in a million years did I ever imagine that suicide would take my brother. What reality is this? Our world is so damn broken that it creates people as vile and evil as his ex wife, that it drives amazing and loving people like my brother to such desperate measures. It is so hard to imagine life without my brother in it. We were supposed to grow old together and watch our children grow up. Geography separated my brother and I but I loved him and anyone who ever talked to me knew how proud I was of my him. He was and still is my hero. I didn’t speak much to him because I let my life get in the way but I thought of him often and prayed for him. I should have called more often and let him know how much I loved him. I should have been better than I was. This is the guilt that I will carry the rest of my life. I don’t know how to move on from here. Processing all of this is difficult. I never thought my brother would kill himself. I wish to find peace with this all some day but I know that it will not be today. I am consumed with so much anger and sadness. I am leaning on my church to help me release some of this and today I cried the whole service. I have faith in God that one day I will find a new norm but I will forever miss my brother. I need for something good to come out of all of this. I don’t know if talking to teens might be a good start but I need for something positive to come from something so negative. I need for people to start being as loving and caring and compassionate as my brother and start paying it forward to others without selfishness or need for acknowledgment and I need for people to start treating people with dignity and respect. I need for people to use my brother, Joe as their role model and desire to be just like him. If everyone were like my brother, I would not be writing about grief because of suicide. People need to stop being so ugly to one another and start loving and appreciating everyone they meet. A simple smile goes a long way and sometimes that is all it takes. Live to be like Joe. #livetobelikeJoe

A heart has so much love to give

I don't think anyone knows how much their heart can love until they meet people that change their life forever. This morning I had to say "See you later" to Leo and my heart broke and I felt very sad and like I was losing my child. It hurt so much to see him walk through security onto the other side of that gate not knowing if I will ever see him again. I'd like to think that our family made such an impact on him that he will want to come back but I am always the worrier that I wasn't hospitable enough or loving enough. I wanted him to feel like he was truly home here and I really hope I achieved that for him. For me, this year was about him enjoying his experience the way he came here to and I feel honored that I got to host him these past 5 months. I am truly going to miss him. I am going to miss how neat and organized he was and how he sang in the bathroom in the morning. lol I'm going to miss how meticulously he made his sandwiches and all the helpful things he did for me. It's the little things about this experience that catch hold of your heart and stay there. Each of these kids bring something so special and so unique to the table and it leaves an imprint on your heart. For me, Leo's love for music and the way he chose to express himself through it allowed me to get to know the person he is and you know what??? Leo is an amazing kid with a good head on his shoulders and he is going to be someone even more amazing one day. Hell, he may even be the person to open the 1st Taco Bell in Italy, who knows. (pst, remember, I get a minimum of $1,000,000 a year for giving you the idea lol) Whatever Leo does, though, I know without a doubt that he will be successful at it and he will make a name for himself. That I guarantee. Leo, Leo, Leo....in 5 short months he changed my life for the better. This experience right here is why I host. My heart is just full of love. I will be on pins and needles until I know he has arrived in Milan safely. I know his mom is very excited to see him and I understand how she is feeling so much. I am so happy for her to finally be reunited with her son. 5 months is a long time for a parent to be without a child. I pray that they see how much he has grown up and matured as a person. I'm telling you, this experience is life changing for all involved. It is not for everyone but for those willing to open up, it truly is amazing, wonderful and life changing. Until we see each other again Leo, be safe, study hard, believe in yourself, forgive yourself, love yourself and don't ever forget your American mom. I love you with all of my heart.

My grandmother's birthday evokes the wrong emotions

When I get up in the morning, it's usually way before my alarm is set to go off. I do what most people do, I roll over and check out Facebook. LOL What???? Don't act like it's not one of the first things you do in the morning too otherwise you wouldn't have known about this blog!!! Anywho, as I was perusing my timeline, I saw a post from my cousin wishing my grandma a happy 94th birthday along with a few pictures of my grandparents, when they were younger, on a table, in what I assume is her home. Now for most people this would evoke emotions such as "Aw, happy birthday" or "Your grandma is so beautiful" etc. and leave it at that  but for me, it's a little more complicated. At first I felt those initial feelings because I love my grandma so much. She is my best friend and she is absolutely gorgeous. In my eyes, there is no greater woman aside from my very own mother. But after I went through my emotions, I started thinking about my cousin and her mom and a whole slew of different emotions surfaced. Ill explain.

My cousin is the daughter of my dad's sister. My dad's sister absolutely hates me. She hates me so much that she has me blocked on Facebook and snubs me when she sees me in person. In fact, just the other day she made it a point to re block me when she realized her husband's account didn't have me blocked.  Why, I highly doubt she would stop to piss on me if I was on fire. Why does she hate me you ask?? Good question! She hates me because on the day her daughter gave birth, my dumbass sent her daughter a scathing email because she had several baby showers and didn't invite me to any of them. I was the only family member excluded from her celebration and MY FEELINGS WERE HURT and instead of being mature about it and talking to her about it in person, I emailed her and lashed out on her on what should have been the most beautiful and amazing day of her life. I am not proud of myself. I did a horrible thing but I apologized to my cousin and I was forgiven by her and that should have been the end of it had the apology been sincere. Nope, it wasn't the end of it and it apparently still isn't the end of it in the eyes of my aunt. I understand that words hurt and sometimes words and actions are unforgivable. I also understand that apparently this is one of those times words are unforgivable because it has been almost 9 years since that incident and my aunt still treats me like I murdered her dog. I apologized to my cousin because it was my cousin that I disrespected. I did absolutely nothing to my aunt nor did I say anything to my aunt even though it was she who threw one of the the baby showers. I get it, I offended her daughter but that's exactly it, I offended her DAUGHTER, not her. My aunt being an ugly and hateful human being is only causing her to waste her own energy and quite honestly, I learned this past summer just how short life is and I have no intentions of harboring animosity and holding grudges toward anyone. I refuse to allow hate to consume me. My aunt also thinks I'm this huge drug addict and she couldn't be further from the truth. My lashing out had nothing to do with me being on drugs, it had everything to do with being hurt over not being invited to celebrate in the birth of a new baby. I was excluded because my parents and I were having some problems and as a result, no one wanted me around. And this is where when I think back on my life that I get the most hurt and the most angered at myself and at my family. I get angered at myself because I was a fucking idiot. I was childish, petty and immature. I was impulsive and reactionary and honestly, I was so tired of being beat down in life that I didn't give a fuck anymore. I felt like I was never going to be good enough in anyone's eyes and I just didn't care what any of them thought of me; that's the attitude I had, it's never how my heart felt. As for my family, I don't know if they just didn't understand my emotional needs because they were never educated on such things or they just didn't care but in my eyes, family love is supposed to love unconditionally. Family is supposed to love you through the good times and love you even harder during the bad times, not beat you down even more. I had a lot of bad times but not once did anyone ever stop to ask me how they could help me. Not once did any of my family members, except my grandma, love me through the turmoils in my heart and mind. Not one of my family members ever took the time to walk in my shoes and get to know the reasons I behaved the way I did or said the things I said or did the things I used to do. Not one of my family members loved me enough, except my grandma, to say "I still want her around." Instead they washed their hands of me, they uninvited me to family events and began ostracizing my family from future events all because it was easier to just not deal with me. That sucks!!!! It sucked to grow up feeling like I didn't belong and that no one cared about me. I felt this way 24/7 365 days a year. I felt unnoticed and as though I was a constant burden on everyone's life. I acted out to get attention because I felt that the only time I was acknowledged was when I fucked up. Hey, negative attention was better than no attention right?? This behavior was a constant source of frustration and embarrassment to my family but I didn't care because I honestly didn't know how to stop. I was wanting to be heard and accepted so badly that I just didn't know what else to do to be seen differently in the eyes of my parents. It sucked always hearing my parents boast about my brothers and me never having not one single accomplishment that my parents could be proud of. It sucked never hearing my parents ever utter one positive thing about me to any of their peers. It sucked because I believe a lot of it could have been prevented if I had had the type of family that had tried to understand my behavior instead of casting me aside like I was a lost cause. I wanted to be loved, appreciaciated and encouraged and instead I was always criticized. I've since grown up, my parents and I have the best relationship we have ever had in our lives but for some reason, 8 years later, my aunt still sees me as the person I was 8 years ago instead of seeing how much I have changed and grown as a person. That is her issue. She can go to the grave holding a grudge but as for me, I'm going to continue to love me because I have made great strides to change me and grow up a bit.

Starr Lyn Brazil

It has been a long time since I have written but my mind has been so cluttered and bursting with thoughts that I felt like I was going to explode if I wasn't able to get it all out. For me, writing is a lot like cleaning out my closet. It allows me to clear my head so that I can organize my thoughts and think clearly. It allows me to make rash, responsible decisions that are thought based and not impulsive and it allows me the chance to destress so I can be more focused on my family. With that being said, my life has really sucked this past year. Yes there have been many great moments but for the most part, it sucked. I never thought that I would watch my best friend pass away from cancer, but I did and it was absolutely horrifying. THIS IS WHERE I WILL STOP FOR A MOMENT AND PLACE A WARNING TO READERS. THERE WILL BE A LOT OF GRAPHIC AND GORY DETAILS REGARDING THAT EXPERIENCE IN MY LIFE SO IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. WRITING THIS IS VERY THERAPEUTIC FOR ME AND IF IT OFFENDS ANYONE, I APOLOGIZE BUT I DONT APOLOGIZE. WE ALL DEAL WITH GRIEF DIFFERENTLY. THIS IS MY WAY.

With that being said, this year really sucked. Meeting Starr was the biggest blessing of my life. She was one of the most generous people I have ever met and because of her generosity,  I made a promise to myself that I would always help her out with whatever it was that she needed and I would always be 100% loyal to our friendship. In the process, I not only made a very good friend, I made a sister. She was just the funniest person I have ever met. She could crack a sarcastic comeback quicker than anyone I had ever met and she could make a joke out of everything and anything. She had the mouth of a sailor, the mind of a genius and the heart and soul of an angel. She would give you the shirt off her back and help you out in the blink of an eye. She had this capacity to make everyone she met feel like they were the only person in her life that mattered. In a nutshell, she made me feel genuinely loved, appreciated and wanted and in return, I genuinely loved, appreciated and wanted her in my life forever. 

Ever since I met Starr in October of 2015, she had always mentioned that her back hurt her and she was always not feeling well. She hadn't really seen any doctors because she didn't have insurance and didn't want to waste her time on what she thought was just a cold that she couldn't shake. In December her back really started hurting her and she finally went to the ER. She was given pain meds and muscle relaxers and sent about her way. In January, she went back again and they did a catscan and once again gave her pain meds and sent her on her merry way. They did tell her that they noticed a spot on her lung but didn't mention what it could be or even mention that she should have it checked out. In February, she met my husband for the first time, since he was deployed, and while standing in her yard, she mentioned the spot and said she thought it could be cancer. I told her that she needed to get that evaluated asap and fuck whether or not she had insurance, she needed to have that done. She didn't because I think she was having trouble getting appointments without insurance and no referrals. March and April go by and she is in and out of the hospital and pretty much bed ridden and vomiting and crying and laying on the ground, soaking in tubs,  just anything to try and alleviate the pain she was experiencing in her back. By this time, she dropped 40lbs from not being able to eat and she could no longer make it to the restroom and had to wear adult diapers. Little did we know, it was because the cancer had spread to her stomach and was causing a bowel blockage. I will get to all that shortly though. While back and forth to the ER, the doctors asked her husband if she was a hypochondriac or if she was a drug addict. They really felt she was a drug addict. Let me make this very clear, Starr never filled most of those prescriptions because they didn't stop the pain so she wasn't going to take them. Finally after the umpteen ER trip, they finally admitted her at the beginning of May. They ran test after test after test and on May 29th, she was officially diagnosed with lung cancer. It was such a shock to hear at first because she went into the hospital with severe back pain. How could back pain turn into lung cancer? Easy, it metastasized into her spine and stomach. Her spine was so brittle from the cancer that it shattered some vertebrae. On May 29th, I hugged her in her bed and held her hand and told her that I was going to love her through it and that is exactly what I did. I jumped in with 2 feet and never looked back. Hank was a truck driver and on the road a lot and it was taking it's toll on him always being at the hospital so I started staying with her when needed but I was there every single day either going to treatments and tests with her, hanging out, saying the rosary, bringing food or just holding her hand and letting her know that she wasn't alone and that we would fight together. We grew very close, Starr and I. We had a lot of conversations where she confided in me about a lot of facets of her life. She was a straight shooter and didn't sugarcoat anything and that is what I truly appreciated about her. Hell, the day I met her online I said to her that I really liked her and wanted to friend her but was nervous because I said fuck a lot. She came back with, "Well then fucking friend me" and that is when I knew I would love her forever. LOL Anywho, the only few days I was not with Starr, I had to go to Missouri with my daughter for her orientation. The first day I was there, her son, Storm, called to tell me that they discovered that the lung cancer was treatable. It was the best news ever. They were going to start radiation in her back and they were confident that it would help shrink it in the spine and help ease the pain. They were then going to go into her spine and use a surgical cement to sort of build up those vertebrae so she wouldn't be in anymore pain. The second day I was there, Storm called me and informed me that after further testing to discover why she was continuously throwing up was that the cancer was now in her stomach where it had not been 9 days prior and that this cancer was not treatable and that the family was given a timeline. Starr didn't want to know the timeline because in her mind, she was still fighting it and surviving it. I felt absolutely helpless and just broke down and cried. I was angry. Why her? Why now? I know this is going to sound selfish and I apologize but I was angry because I had just made a quality, amazing, lifelong friend and she was being taken from me in less than a month. You bet I was angry. I wasn't ready to not have her in my life. We had so many plans and damnit, I wanted them to happen. I got back from Missouri and days just seemed to mesh into each other. They were days filled with doctors and nurses, test after test, intense pain for Starr. The pain in her back was so bad, she would start to spasm and I would have to rub her back until the spasm went away. I spent many days rubbing her back and holding her hand as she cried. So many times she would look me in the eyes and tell me that she was scared and I always told her that she didn't have to be afraid that I would always be there for her and with her and that I would never let her go. Often times she would hold my hand, especially the last 2 weeks of her life, and ask me if today was the day she was going to die. I always responded with, "Can you still see me and hear me and she would say yes and I would say well then today isn't the day. The fight isn't over until the fat lady sings and I haven't sang yet."She would laugh and say "that's why I love you. You are my sister and I am so blessed to have you because no one has ever done for me and my family what you have done for us." She just didn't realize that it was such an honor for me that she trusted me enough to take care of her during the most vulnerable time in her life. She wanted me, more than anyone else, around her to take care of her because she told me that when I am there with her, she felt safe. Even typing that out makes me weep painful tears because I miss her so much. I miss hearing her even though I can hear the sound of her voice in my head. It doesn't erase the pain of her not physically being here and hearing her say, "Hi love bug." 

The two weeks leading up to her passing away is where my memory haunts me the most. When I tell you that she declined quickly, I am telling you that she declined quickly. I went from a night of doing Chantilly for her and her laughing at all the youtube videos to the next night where she was starting to daze off. It was in that moment that I really started to realize that I was going to lose my friend and it hurt me to the core. There was nothing I could do to stop it even though I kept praying for a miracle. All I could do was continue to be a source of laughter, comfort and peace to her and remain positive with her as I promised that I would do on May 29th. During these two weeks, Starr went from being able to walk to being completely bed bound. Her urine was the color of coke and just as thick and there wasn't a vein that was able to be used. They kept blowing and nurses were having trouble finding one. They tried everywhere, even on her shoulder. Starr was bruised from head to toe. Her mouth started developing blisters because she was so dehydrated and her lips were so dry. She was sucking on lemon cotton mouth swabs constantly. She couldn't drink or eat anything because she kept throwing it up and doctors had her on iv nutrients. Problem is, her veins kept collapsing. She was on an around the clock pain pump that was set at every 12 minutes and nausea medications. When she was able to eat again, she could only take little bites and they didn't really settle well with her. During these two weeks, her sister Sandy came to town. Sandy is a Nurse Practitioner and she was amazing to have around and to advocate for Starr. Starr wanted so badly to go home and Sandy promised her that. she would get her home.  Doctors kept saying that Starr needed to be able to walk in order to get out of the hospital and she wanted that so badly. When Sandy came, she got Starr out of bed and we began taking her downstairs to the cafeteria and out into the courtyard for sun on her face and to sit near the piano to look out the window and listen to the music. Starr was happy to be out of her room and still determined to survive. I wanted that so badly for her but Sandy and I had already discussed that we needed to sit down with Starr and discuss quality over quantity life with her now. So it was during these two weeks that we sat down with her and laid it all out on the line for her and where holding her hand became more important to me as she needed to know that whatever she decided, she wasn't ever going to be alone. The reality of this was Starr was in fact going to die and while chemo was an option, it would not cure her and at best, it would only buy her a few more weeks at best and would most likely make her seriously ill to where she would have zero quality time to spend with her family and grand kids or it could kill her immediately. Or she had the option of simply going home on hospice and living out the remainder of her life here on earth surrounded by friends and family where she was coherent and well enough to enjoy them. In the end, she chose hospice and that was a very tough pill for her to swallow. Sitting in the courtyard having this conversation with her was rough. I could see the sadness in her eyes and I could see her reflecting on her options and I know she was thinking that she was fucked no matter what she chose. My heart hurt so badly for her and I wished so much that I could just lay my hands on her and take it all away from her the way John Coffee (sp) did on The Green Mile. Man I would have taken that from her way back in February when she told me they saw a spot. 

On Monday, June 26th, Sandy made her promise a reality. Starr was released to go home on Hospice. She was so happy. The day she went home was a joyous occasion. Yes we were making arrangements with hospice and getting her medication set up and preparing for her to die but it was still joyous because our Starr was back in her own home, with her dog and all of her things that were familiar to her. she wasn't being poked anymore and she could sit out on her porch which she did for 5 minutes on the day she came home, After that, Starr slept a lot and her breathing was getting worse and worse. Her lungs were filling up with fluid and she was no longer eating anything. She was taking sips of water here and there when she had to take her medications but even by Wednesday morning, she was no longer able to take medications by mouth. Sandy and I were the only ones authorized by Hospice to administer medications so we had to resort to crushing the pills and mixing them with her oral pain meds and squeezing them into her mouth through a syringe. It was the nastiest concoction and texture ever and I hated having to give it to her but she was in so much pain, I had no choice. She had to have her medication. She was coughing a lot and trying to clear her throat more often now and you could really hear the fluids when she was breathing. Her breathing was also very labored and there were many times we thought that this could be the moment. Storm was en route from Florida and we spent a lot of time trying to keep Starr from passing until Storm arrived. We were successful but Starr had a lot to do with that. She rallied a lot especially when people would come to visit. She was always the life of the party and the light in the room. There was no place else I would rather be than with her. On Thursday, June 30th, I went to give her her medication and she whispered in a very weak voice, "Not now" and that is the last time I ever heard her voice. She never opened her eyes again. Hospice came to do their daily assessment and they could not find a blood pressure. Starr was no longer with us but her body had not passed on yet; meaning, her heart was still beating and she was still breathing but she was no longer really there. She wasn't aware of anyone or anything going on around her. She was no long voiding in her catheter bag at all. She, however, had started bleeding from her rectum and the thing with lung cancer is, lung cancer patients could begin to bleed out from any orifice and once that happens, there is no stopping it and it would be very, very messy. So, we had to lay plastic garbage bags under her bed in the event this happened. I kept praying that that never happened and still thank God that it didn't. All day long we kept vigil over Starr. I prayed over her continuously and I sang songs to her. At 9:30pm that evening, Starr started vomiting dark fluids from her stomach up. Sandy and I cleaned her up and I held her hand as she gasped for breath after breath. At 9:35pm, Starr took her final breath on earth and her first breath in heaven and I swear at that moment, a little bit of air touched my face as she floated up to heaven. I cried my heart out. Anyone who ever says that death is peaceful has never, ever experienced death from lung cancer. It is absolutely devastating and traumatic. The smells and the sounds are disturbing and unforgettable and the final moments before taking their final breath are scary and chaotic. I wouldn't wish this on anyone but murderers and rapists. This experience changed me so much as a person. I can't read a cancer story or watch a cancer video without thinking about this time in my life with Starr. It brings me back to the days in the hospital and the moment she passed and my heart gets sad all over again. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about her, talk to her or wish that she was right here with me. I miss her so much. I miss talking to her and laughing with her but mostly, I miss the way she made me feel good about myself with just even a simple "hello love bug." She was always so flattering and supportive and she loved me and my family just as much as I loved her and hers. I will always believe that it was an absolute honor to take care of Starr. She had a million other friends who have known her longer but she chose me and I couldn't feel more honored. I would do it a billion times over if it meant she felt safe and supported and not alone. I would do it a billion times over just to see her smile knowing she had me. This is my Starr story and she is the reason I want to be an even better person. She taught me to love and be kind even when the world if the world is shitting on me. She taught me to have faith and to keep fighting even if everyone else has given up and she has taught me the true meaning of unconditional friendship and love in the quality of relationship that I had with her. Until my dying day, Starr will forever be a name in my household and and I will always keep the memory of her alive to anyone who cares to listen. This experience has taught me to be even more thankful for the things I have and especially for waking up each morning because this has solidified that life truly is short and tomorrow is never promised. I love you Starr Lyn Brazeal. You are greatly missed each and every day.