I’ve been selfish to my Brother and my Mother’s siblings
Today is my mother’s birthday.
She would have been 75 years old today.
It is June 29, 2026.
In the last weeks of September 2008, I watched my mother take her last breath in the hospital. Her last words were, “Oh my goodness.”
Prior to that, she had been drifting in and out of consciousness until she eventually became unresponsive. The doctors, nurses, and medical staff came into the room and gently turned her onto her side. At the time, I thought she was simply in a deep sleep, but it was far worse than temporary sleep.
As they rolled her over, she quietly said, “Oh my goodness.”
I didn’t know those would be the last words I would ever hear my mother speak.
There I was, standing in a hospital room, looking at my mother lying in that bed, expecting her to come home in a couple of days. Instead, after those final words, she sounded exhausted.
The next 48 hours would become the craziest 48 hours of my life.
The Hardest Decision
A decision had to be made.
We had to decide whether to take my mother off life support.
It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make.
Looking back, I realized something about myself.
I was selfish.
I didn’t recognize it until that very moment.
I called my brother so we could talk through this impossible decision. Eventually, we reached a conclusion.
But after we made that decision, I wanted everything to happen as quickly as possible.
I wanted it to be over.
Not because I didn’t love my mother.
Because I wanted the suffering to end so I could begin the painful human process of grieving.
At the time, I became frustrated that my brother wasn’t at the hospital when I thought he should have been.
Again…
That was my selfishness speaking.
Before She Was My Mother…
This was his mother before she was mine.
My brother is about four years older than I am.
He had four more years with her than I did.
When he finally arrived at the hospital, I realized something that would stay with me for years.
He deserved the time to process what was happening just as much as I did.
Then another thought crossed my mind.
Other people had even more time with my mother than either of us.
Her brothers.
Her sisters.
It took years after my mother’s passing for me to fully understand the depth of those relationships.
She wasn’t only my mother.
She was someone’s sister.
She had siblings…
Just like I do.
Learning to Share
I’ve always been selfish with my mom.
I didn’t want anybody to have her but me.
Maybe that feeling started long before I ever understood it.
Growing up with siblings, things disappeared.
Clothes.
Video games.
Food.
Anything that belonged to me somehow found its way into someone else’s hands.
I took that personally.
Whenever I caught the culprit, they would usually laugh and say they were “just borrowing it.”
Eventually, I would laugh too.
Those are the things siblings do.
We borrow.
We lend.
We argue.
We fight.
Then we move on.
Looking back now, I have to ask myself:
How many things did I borrow from my siblings without thinking?
How many times did I assume they wouldn’t miss it?
Sibling rivalry is part of growing up.
My Mother’s Siblings
As I got older, I began remembering how often one of my mother’s brothers or sisters was at our house.
Someone was always stopping by.
Sharing a meal.
Dropping something off.
Picking something up.
Laughing together.
Being family.
Then one day it finally hit me.
When my mother died…
My aunts and uncles didn’t just lose my mom.
They lost their sister.
For the first three, four, maybe even six years after her passing, I never thought about that.
I was so consumed with my own grief that I couldn’t see theirs.
I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to lose a sibling.
When I Began to Understand
That understanding didn’t begin until years later after my cousin Shun lost his older brother, Shad.
They were my cousins.
But they were also like brothers.
They slept in the same room.
Shared clothes.
Shared food.
Shared life.
Watching Shun grieve gave me just a small glimpse into what my aunts and uncles must have felt.
Only a glimpse.
I still can’t imagine losing one of my brothers.
I can’t imagine losing my sister.
Even thinking about it is devastating.
A Mother’s Loss
My mother was the second oldest of nine children—seven girls and two boys.
She was born into a God-fearing family, loving marriage & family.
People often say that a parent should never have to bury their child.
It’s out of order.
After my mother passed away, I watched my Grandmother try to process losing her daughter.
I don’t have children, so I can’t fully understand that pain.
But I do have siblings.
And I love them deeply.
Despite disagreements…
Despite personality differences…
Family is family.
Older siblings often set the pace for everyone who comes after them.
They’re there before you are.
They help shape your life before you even realize it.
Eighteen Years Later
This September will mark 18 years since my mother passed away.
As the years have gone by, I find myself thinking more and more about my brother.
I know he misses his mother.
Because if I miss her this much…
I know he does too.
Losing my mother taught me something about love.
It taught me that I cannot hold onto people forever.
It taught me that I don’t have exclusive relationships with the people I love.
The people we love also belong to others.
They have brothers.
Sisters.
Children.
Friends.
Relationships that deserve the same love, honor, and respect that ours do.
My grief blinded me for years.
I forgot that they had her before I did.
Happy Birthday, Mom
Today, 18 years later, my heart has changed.
It no longer hurts to share my mother.
Instead…
It warms my heart.
It warms my heart knowing that my aunts and uncles shared their sister with me.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
And thank you…
Aunt Diane.
Aunt Lisa.
Aunt Carla.
Aunt Tootsie.
Aunt Vicki.
Aunt Tina.
Aunt Monica.
Uncle Kevin.
Uncle Eric.
Thank you for sharing your sister with me.
I love you all.
