Grief

Two Strong Brothers: A Mother’s Warning About Liver Disease

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Today is September 19, 2025. It has been one month since my second son, Bob, died. The day Bob was born I was 22 and I never thought I would outlive both my sons. I was so full of hope for their futures. Mike was almost 2 when Bob was born. He was a good big brother to all his siblings. Being second never made Bob second best. He worked hard at being able to do whatever his brother could do. They both grew to over 6 feet tall, big, strong men, who could do almost anything physically. They both relished their physical strength. Neither of them showed outward signs of a weakness that went completely undetected until it was too late.

They say it is how you make people feel that they remember about you. Both my sons made people feel worthy. They made them feel worthy of love, attention, being listened to, peace, enjoyment of life – the list goes on. They made people feel like they mattered to them. They were both easy going guys who enjoyed people but also valued their own space. They loved their wives, families and several friends. Neither had planned to exit our plane of existence so soon.

I’ve thought a long time about what I wish to say to the young generation they are from – the 1980’s kids and younger. My sons died of a liver disease that was probably a hereditary weakness according to a hepatologist. (Liver specialist) The doctor said it is unusual for a person to develop cirrhosis at such a young age even if they are drinkers. Mike was 40 (in 2020) and Bob was 43 at passing. They both enjoyed the fermented, distilled and brewed beverages. Due to my sons’ liver disease, which was never discovered until it was too late, I have simple advice for the youth.

Get your blood tested. There are inexpensive ways nowadays. See a general practitioner once a year for your annual physical and be honest about your lifestyle. You think you don’t have time? My sons don’t have time. They’re gone now. If they had known that their bodies were performing suboptimally they might have had time to change their lifestyles and possibly be here with us now. We are not born with a gauge or an app that alerts us to the danger we are in if our body starts failing. I am not trying to paint some fake picture for you. I don’t remember how many times I told both of them, you only get one liver, because I watched an elderly man die of cirrhosis when I was a teenager. I would guess that it is one of the most painful ways to die. Our blood tells our story. Learn about yours.

Tangible Love

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When I got news of my cousin’s suicide I tried to wrap my head around it. I tried to make it make sense to me.

I found it hard to accept that anything became so intolerable to want to leave permanently as he did. My mom didn’t try to offer any explanation as there probably wasn’t a good one or at least not one that occurred to us. I can’t remember when it was, a day or two days after I learned of his death that I had the most incredible, beautiful, memorable dream.  John appeared to me smiling that devilish grin of his with deep brown eyes twinkling at me. You would think I would have so many questions to ask but the only one I could utter in my dream was, “Where do you go?” He told me it could not be for long but he could give me a brief look at where he goes when he isn’t visiting our Earth, his former home.
Instantly, what seemed like 3 seconds in my dream, we were in a space with no walls. There was white everywhere. Not like the white of white copy paper. This was white light. It was bright. Everything was different white. I could see shapes of white on white, different “shades” of white on white. There was so much beauty I could not take it all in. The thing I remember most was the feeling. There I stood, feeling immersed in love.
 
Touch something near you while you are reading this. Your leg, desk, device. Feel it in your hand. Feel the size, the texture, notice whether it is smooth or rough. THAT is how the love felt so strongly where we were that I could feel it just like I can feel these keys under my fingers only it was inside every single cell of my body. Tangible Love is the only way I can describe it.
 
Now scientists can see to the center of atoms and everything is energy. That is probably what I saw. Energy.
I am not concerned about when I pass now. I haven’t been since that moment. Now, when I think of the inevitable, I think of things I want to do and see without this mortal, easily damaged, limited physical body. I want to see the Mariana Trench. I want to surf from star to star on our spiral galaxy and take a wild ride! What treasures lie beyond our plane of existence. Mind you, I’m not planning to hasten the day, but I do not fear it.
Thank you, John.