Lessons from a Life of Struggle and Joy

My brother Mark died on December 8th, 1994, 30-years ago. I wrote and read a letter to him five days before he lost his battle with HIV/AIDS. He was bravely lying in a hospital bed at the National Institutes of Health where he was part of groundbreaking research led by Dr. Anthony Fauci and others to understand and to find a cure for the virus and disease that has now killed more than 42-million people. I share the letter hesitantly as it glaringly displays my selfish attempt at seeking forgiveness while simultaneously wanting my brother's agony to end. It did. But his memory and what I learned from his life will live with me forever.

December 3, 1994

My dearest, most beautiful and strong brother ~

Would that we had ten more years together, or even ten more months. But we do not. I fear now that we are counting what remains of your life on earth in hours, maybe days. And then what? What will become of me? Who will I be without you? By only brother will be gone, lost to me forever.

Drift and regrets

How did we arrive at this point in our lives? I've been to visit you four times this year. That, I think, is more times than in the last 15-years since I left our family home in California for New York and you for Washington, DC. How we strayed! Why? I do not really know.

Perhaps we began to drift apart my senior year of high school. We shared many friends yet we had our separate friends, as well. I was looking to the future with grand plans to pursue an acting career in NYC. You still had two years of high school. How could I possibly know that within a year after I left home that your life would change so dramatically? How could I have imagined such a thing?

When I received the telephone call from home telling me that you were gay, I cried. I cried through the night. Looking back, and knowing what I know now, I do not understand what led to those tears. Maybe I felt that you would miss out on this existence the rest of us call "normal." Nevertheless, I did cry and I felt a loss. As if your gayness meant that we could not share good times together.

As time passed we grew apart. You left home, or were sent away, and began to pull away from the entire family. Being thousands of miles away from the situation I could not know what played into that decision. From where I was your leaving home made sense. Now I realize that it must have felt to you as if the entire family was abandoning you. How could you have possibly felt anything but animosity for us all?

Beyond the battle

Now, here we are. You are at a stage in your battle with AIDS that seems unsurmountable. Each time it appears you are stabilizing, improving, along comes another front of illnesses. What hell! Pure agony! Pain! How you hang onto life I do not know. Is there some light you see that I cannot envision? Are you struggling simply to show that you are strong? Or are you afraid to let go of life? Is there something on the other side, where ever that might be, that you not care to encounter?

It must be beautiful, the other side. I picture it to be ever so tranquil. Not at all like life on earth. Awaiting you are countless others who have gone before you. They are standing by to greet you. with overwhelming joy. Steve is there. I am sure.

What is there for you here on earth? More pain. More meds. More tests. More agony. And us. Your family is here but we do not wish to forestall your journey. We do not want to prolong your existence here. This state that you are in is not life. It is merely a weigh station. A temporary spot where you're stuck between what was your life and what will be your ever after. Do not hesitate here. Linger no more. Move on to the peace and joy that is just a few steps away. Embrace the everlasting light.

What remains for you to accomplish? Do you want to share some memory locked deep in the safe of your heart? Is there some unfinished business that you must take care of?

The Vault

Would that you were not plagued with the Sierra sense of privacy. If only you could share those feelings, thoughts, desires, regrets, hopes, and fears. You do not open up and let us in. It is all locked up inside your mind and heart. Is there a passkey? Can we break the code that will allow us entrance?

I, too, have locked away my feelings. But how unfair. The precious feelings we each possess are relatively valueless if we do not share them with the people who love us. Perhaps they are even more valuable when we release them. Shared treasures so much more worthy when on display. What must the jewels within you look like? How brilliant they must be. Refined gems kept secret from the world. Some, no doubt, tarnished. But we all have imperfect lives. Flawed existences. Do not worry that we will judge your imperfections when we all have so many of our own.

Beautiful memories

Remember when we were both in West Side Story in high school. I played Tony and you were Riff. Remember? Sperm to worm. Womb to tomb. We were never to be separated. Ironic that we were the only two Puerto Ricans and yet we were cast to be on the Jets. All of the Sharks were played by our Mexican friends.

We had so much fun together then. Remember the disco dance contest we entered? You and your partner won 1st place. I still have fond memories when I hear Donna Summer or Sylvester. They make me think of you.

And now what will spark memories of you? Songs of tranquility because I want so much for you to be resting. Why should you have so much pain when you cough? Why should you be unable to walk? You can't even sit up without help. When you take the endless string of prescribed pills I can hear them rattle down your throat and drop with a thud into your emplty stomach. Nothing there to keep them company.

Is this the memory of Mark that I will carry through life? No. I chose instead to remember the times when we were young and innocent. When our worst fears were if mom would catch us sneaking to Neil's Liquor Store for a 12-cent can of cola and a 7-cent candy bar. We would get change from a quarter. I'll remember the time the woman in church sitting in the pew behind us twisted my ear - or was it your ear - because we were goofing off and making noise. Boy, did mom tell her off. Then we got it good when she marched us out of there. I'll remember the summer of '77 when you and I traveled to stay with family friends in Washington, DC for a month. A week in a condo at Ocean City. The fancy restaurant in the Watergate Hotel. Driving around in their Lincoln Town Car. The concert with the Commodores and The Emotions - you got the Best of My Love. Taking a bus trip up to NYC to spend a week with our aunt. The ferry boat ride passed the Statue of Liberty with the Marrero sisters.

Crossroads

That was then. Now were are at a much different place in our lives. We are at a crossroads. You are headed in one direction. Your destiny is written. I am headed down another path. One that has gone in many directions yet crossed yours at various intervals. This, I fear, is our final crossing.

You lie there in stillness. Each breath like siphon sucking in life. You body is so brittle. Your skin so fragile. Each time we move you I fear you might break. We must be so gentle with you. And you, so brave! Swallowing pill after pill. Be ever so patient as you're poked and prodded. So brave!

There is no way to replace the lost years. No means to create memories never made. But we will remember fondly those which are previous, face those which are uncomfortable, and look ahead top those yet to come with open hearts and open minds.

It's unclear what's next. What lies around the corner may be joy or it may be pain. But whatever is there you must know that we are with you each step of the way. There is no mountain that we won't climb with you. so low that we would not attempt to cross it with you. And when the moment comes for you to cross into another sphere - we will be at your side. Even then we will not abandon you. You, my dear brother, will never be alone again.

I love you. You are valiant.

Forever ~ Your brother, Rodrigo

In life, Mark was very private and reserved. Now his soul soars freely among the angels. We hope his flight is peaceful and joyous.