Bradley
To
my dear brother Bradley, who always knows just when to give you a hug and a
brilliant Bradley style smile. You shine so bright, little man, don’t ever let
anybody try to bring you down. To the boy who makes the brightest star look
dim, I love you more than you will ever know…
There’s a
particular amount of love in life. I believe that love is all of life, and it, as
well as we, would not be so without it. A time and place for everything, it’s
true, and these are moments life chooses ever so often, yet rarely with love.
It can happen to anyone, even me, I just can never seem to see it. Once upon a
time though, I did see it, and it changed my life forever.
Its
risks lie under a blanket of faith, with benefits and love above it. But every
so often, faith peels away when the body of risk and doubt get too hot. The
only thing supporting it is a pillow of hope and a mattress of choice, in which
you must believe, in God and yourself.
Yet I
hesitate greatly, if not, entirely, to say that this change, that that moment in my
life was bad.
This
moment was undoubtedly Life’s gift to me, with just some tears in the wrapping.
Life delivered it to me on the 9th of January, in the year 2010. I
shall never forget that day.
Wrapped
in a unique style wrapping, and a different style of ribbon and bow, it came to
me as a boy, one diagnosed with Down syndrome. Of course at the time, I had not
any knowledge of what that could possibly mean to, or for me; nor that the best
present I could ever have asked for was laid in my hands as he opened his
sparkling, blue eyes, and stared up at me with bright curiosity.
It
wasn’t until the first time he opened his mouth and his tiny lips spread
upwards like a banana, stretching from ear to ear, as smiled at me, a smile for me, that I knew I knew how much he meant to me.
And it wasn’t until now, five years later, that I have finally figured out just
how much I mean to him.
I’m
sure you have all viewed him through photos on my mother’s blog, or have read
of him on that blog. But just in case you have not, “he” is that number 1
miracle that I have ever witnessed and have called mine. His name is Bradley
Burnett.
And
I’m telling you, he is the sweetest five year old boy you will ever meet.
Guaranteed. His smile is the first thing you see, and it is irresistible. It’s
painful to see him cry, or suffer in silent pain. With eight surgeries, 17
procedures, and countless seizures, there’s a lot to be said about him. And as
much as he is different, he is oh so much of the same, and continues to smile every
day. There hasn’t been a time where we’ve driven to UCLA or down to Balboa
where I don’t feel pain for him and anger against God, thinking, “Why us? Why
him? Why does it have to be so unfair?” but I answer these questions. I believe
that it is a situation for us and one for us only because we can. And maybe anyone else God
may rest the situation on might just crumple to dirt because they simply cannot
burden the weight of such a thing. But Bradley does not feel it. He does not
know much now, but is learning fast. He does not know of his little flaw yet,
but if there’s one thing I know like the back of my hand, it’s him. And you
know what he would want? He wouldn’t want us to worry about or for him, or weep
for him, or live in sorrow about him. He would want to play and smile and have
a good time while it lasted.
Yet
the funny thing is, he isn’t different because he has Down syndrome. Not in the
least. It’s a story I will share with you now, to help you understand. It still
saddens me and scares me, as some still happens today. But I will start at the
beginning, nonetheless.
As my
little ray of sunshine turned 18 months old, everything changed. We had a
choice. One that held so much devastation, even I, at age seven, was shocked to
a point where breathing seemed pointless, as I couldn’t do so.
I’ll never forget, the
blood of my heart, gushing from my eyes, from the wound that is now a scar, as
if a sword slashed into my heart’s core, where all veins connect to help me
live. This all happened by words that might as well have been the sounds of the
world ending. And to some extent, my world truly was ending.
~ Several hours ago, several days ago, the true
value of life meant a whole lot more and had more meaning to me that I might
have ever imagined. My parents could not explain it in such a way that would
shield me from the blow of the sword as it attacked my heart.
Apparently, Bradley had
not been keeping his food down for 18 months, everything he ate and drank was
spit back up within an hour. His esophagus was too loose.
Here was our choice, as a
result: we could insert a button in his stomach permanently, which attached to
a G-tube, so we could get his food to stay down that way, or we didn’t insert
the button, and eventually he would starve and… go to heaven.
After the surgery to get the
button, I knew that it was never a choice to begin with. I know now I would do
anything for Bradley, even if it included laying down my own life if I died
knowing that he was still alive, that I saved him another breath.
My heart has healed,
blood has filled it again, but that scar is still there, hidden in the depths
of my heart, where no one can see it, and it will never go away. I chose to let
Bradley into my life, and he chose the same for me. We are bonded together with
an unbreakable thread, and for that I am grateful. He is my greatest gift, and
I will never EVER regret him or my choice.
I love you so much
Bradley, an amount that can’t be charted. Always remember that, always know
that you have a place in this world, and in my heart, that no one else can
replace. There is never a time where you are not loved, and my dear, all you
have to do is smile and open your heart, and you will never be lonely or scared
again. Remember that I don’t care about the eight surgeries or 17 procedures in
your medical charts, or how many seizures you’ve ever had or might have. All I
care about is you as a person, and that will never change. I write about you
today so everyone will know what a blessing you and people like you are. Don’t
ever be afraid to help someone understand that, and continue to shine like the
shooting star you are.
Love always, with no regret,
Sydney
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