Death in the family
by Sylvia Hiller

Why have I chosen this topic? Because, sadly, I have had direct experience with death in our family. I'd like to tell you what happened and what I learned from this, and end with a few things that you can do to help people around you who are hurting.

I was six years old when my brother, Martin, was born. He was our first brother, and my parents' fourth child. He was a fun-loving, happy boy. When he was one-and-a-half years old, we noticed that he was unsteady on his feet. Eventually it got so bad that he started falling over. We took him to the B.C. Children's Hospital, where doctors found that he had an extremely rare, cancerous brain tumour. The very next morning, he had to have emergency surgery. My dad, sisters and I went to the hospital every day, but my mom stayed at Martin's bedside all the time.

After he left the hospital, his tumour slowly regrew. There were no reasonable medications or therapies to cure him. Six months later, the tumour was so big again that he went in for a second operation, to remove some fluid that was putting pressure on his brain.

After that, Martin got thinner, didn't eat much anymore and became very "clingy". In many different ways, I was allowed to help care for him in our home as he gradually died. His last days were not easy on anyone. Finally, at the age of two-and-a-half years, after a nine-month struggle with cancer, he died in my dad's arms.

The months leading up to Martin's death and those after the funeral were more painful for my family and me than anything words can tell. During this time, I learned three important lessons.

First, life really is a precious gift. It is wonderful to be alive and to have brothers and sisters around. When anyone in the family becomes ill or dies, you really know how precious they are . . . or were. So now I am trying to treat my sisters like a great gift and love them even more than before Martin's death.

Second, life is uncertain in its length. My grandfather is healthy and well, and he's 81 years old. My brother, on the other hand, died at age two. So it's clear to me that none of us knows just how long we're going to live. While I don't always succeed in this, I'm now trying to live each day as if it were my last--and to cling onto the hope I have in my faith.

Third, I learned that many friends from our church and neighbourhood wanted to help and that if I let them, then the pain of death could be made a little less. Hugs and kisses, crying and praying with others, as well as meals, cards, flowers and gifts, all told me that others really did care about Martin and me.

Fortunately, not everyone has to deal with the loss of a brother or sister. But some of you are going through a great deal of grief or pain . . . or know somebody who is. Based on my own experience, here are some things that you can do to help people in those situations:

• Write a really sensitive, personal message in a card or letter (rather than just signing your name).
• Visit the person, and perhaps bring some flowers, a meal or anything else that says "I care about you."
• Listen to the other person talk about the pain or problems--without interrupting.
• Be willing to show that what the other person is going through hurts you, too. While it might feel awkward at first, crying together really can be quite okay.

Whenever someone is hurting, you and I have a choice to make. We can choose to somehow help or turn away, pretending not to see. I'd like to encourage each of you to make the choice of being a person who really makes a difference in the lives of the many needy, hurting, people in our families, schools and community.

Sylvia Hiller attends Sardis (B.C.) Community Church. Her brother Martin died May 15, 1992. This article is based on a speech she made in the spring of 1995 in a grade 5 speaking contest (she won first prize).

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