When Kevin was sick and dying in St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver, I visited him as much as I could, because I knew he didn't have a lot of time left. His partner, Walter, seemed to never leave Kevin's side. I remember being so grateful to him, but also so sad for him; Walter had already lost one Love to AIDS and we were helpless to stop it from happening again.
I was eighteen and I wanted to be a good sister, but I was scared and tired and guilty. My guilt seemed ready to drown me at times and then I would feel guilty for thinking so much about myself at a time like this. Silliness. I felt guilty because I believed that I didn't know my brother as much as I could have if I had only taken the time.
Kevin and my Mom were best friends. They did so many things together and their personalities just meshed. When I was still living at home, Kevin would call at least once a day. I often answered the phone and he and I would have the standard "Hi, how are you? I'm fine. Yes, here's Mom." conversations. Every time I got off the bus to walk up to Kevin's hospital room, I cursed myself for not being more of a friend to my brother. Every step that drew me closer to his bedside was a step closer to losing him forever.
Keith was also visiting often and there were several times that we were there together. Having him there was a relief for me, since Keith and I were close, but it also intensified my guilt: how come I was so close to Keith, but not to Kevin? Still, it was so nice to have someone distract me from the gravity of the situation by making fun of my T-shirt or teasing me about some guy I liked. Being bugged by my big brother was a welcome diversion because by this time, Kevin was so ill that I don't think he was always aware that anyone was visiting.
I didn't handle those last days well. That is to say, I couldn't stand to hear the sounds of a person too young to die; the moans and unconscious sounds of a boy being ripped from his life when it should have just been beginning. Because I came to see later that it wasn't the wasting, feverish, writhing sickness that had me unable to sit still; had me pacing the hallways to avoid having to watch it happen. It was that it was such a goddamn shame. Here was this twenty-five-year-old boy, about to die, about to leave this world he had barely got to know. No matter how I look at it, no matter how I think about it, it never adds up in my mind.
When I left the hospital that night, Walter told me this would be my last visit and I knew enough to believe him, even if I didn't want to. I said goodbye to Kevin, but I didn't say the things I really wanted to say, because I wouldn't know what those things were for many years to come. In a way, I've never stopped saying goodbye and curiously, I hope I never do.
I remember waking up at around 1.15 am and looking at the clock before drifting back to sleep. The next thing I knew, it was around 8am and I woke up to find Keith sitting on the end of my bed. He had taken the hour-long bus ride from Vancouver to White Rock this early in the morning? For Keith, 7am might as well have been the middle of the night. He looked at me and smiled and I knew immediately that Kevin had died. His death and my waking in the night had happened at roughly the same time.
Keith and I went down to walk on the beach and we talked for a long time. I had a lot of trouble expressing my feelings, mostly because of my guilt at not knowing Kevin the way I would have liked to. I was trying to explain this and Keith said something I will never forget: "It would have been different if it had been me." And although this only served to grow my guilt, I knew that in a way he was right; if it had been Keith, I wouldn't have gotten out of bed.
Looking back on this now, having lost both my eldest brothers, I know that loss is loss. I miss them both for different reasons, in different ways, just as I'd known and loved them differently when they were alive. And the guilt I'd carried around? I've managed to cut it loose, because it only got in the way. Instead of worrying about all the things I didn't know about Kevin, I'd rather remember all the great things I know about him.
So to close things off, I'll share one of my favourite memories of spending time with Kevin and Walter. They had invited me to Vancouver to see a play. They did this often; plays, the symphony, concerts, all sorts of things. Afterward, they were waiting with me at the bus stop to see me off and a young guy was walking toward us wearing a "Boy's Co." T-shirt. You might remember these shirts. They were usually black and from a distance they just said "BOY" across the front in big block letters. In very little printing at the bottom of the "Y" was printed "'s Co." They were pretty popular for awhile but I'd never been a fan.
We had been waiting at the bus stop for a little while and the conversation had dwindled. I spotted this guy wearing this shirt, so I said "What's it say on the back, 'TOY'?" Apparently this was not what Kevin and Walter expected a sixteen-year-old girl to say and I'd never seen them, especially Walter, laugh that loud. This moment stands as one of my favourite moments ever spent with any of my family members. I'd never felt so funny.
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