In the past, I've mentioned how much I prefer a pen and paper over a keyboard and computer screen. I realize that times are changing and technology has come so far but I still find much more peace and comfort in the "old fashioned" way of things. Photographs should be taken often and with a purpose. I much prefer a printed photograph over one saved on my phone. I would take a hand-written letter over an email any day.
A few years ago, I was preparing to spend my last week as a young woman at Girl's Camp with my local church members. I went to Girl's Camp for one week each summer from the time I was 12 until I turned 17. Each year, there was something called a "Solo Hike". This was a hike, a walk, whatever you wanted it to be. The point of it was to find a spot in nature that you could be by yourself to ponder, pray, read scriptures, write in your journal, whatever you wanted to do. In addition to that, our leaders collected letters that our parents had written to us so that we could read them on our solo hike. Each year, my mom wrote me a letter and I always looked forward to them. For my last year, though, I requested that I get a letter from each of my siblings and my parents. I wanted to know what they wanted me to know but maybe hadn't had a chance to tell me. I put my dad in charge of gathering the letters and brought them all with me to my last year of camp.
At this time, in the summer of 2013, my brother, Treis, was in a rehabilitation facility. I still wanted a letter from him, though, so I reminded him about it on a few occasions that I went up to visit him. He assured me that he had not forgotten and I would have the letter before I went to camp. He even sent it early! I received it in the mail about 2 weeks before camp. Treis knew that I wouldn't be camping yet so on the outside of the envelope, he wrote a short message:
A few years ago, I was preparing to spend my last week as a young woman at Girl's Camp with my local church members. I went to Girl's Camp for one week each summer from the time I was 12 until I turned 17. Each year, there was something called a "Solo Hike". This was a hike, a walk, whatever you wanted it to be. The point of it was to find a spot in nature that you could be by yourself to ponder, pray, read scriptures, write in your journal, whatever you wanted to do. In addition to that, our leaders collected letters that our parents had written to us so that we could read them on our solo hike. Each year, my mom wrote me a letter and I always looked forward to them. For my last year, though, I requested that I get a letter from each of my siblings and my parents. I wanted to know what they wanted me to know but maybe hadn't had a chance to tell me. I put my dad in charge of gathering the letters and brought them all with me to my last year of camp.
At this time, in the summer of 2013, my brother, Treis, was in a rehabilitation facility. I still wanted a letter from him, though, so I reminded him about it on a few occasions that I went up to visit him. He assured me that he had not forgotten and I would have the letter before I went to camp. He even sent it early! I received it in the mail about 2 weeks before camp. Treis knew that I wouldn't be camping yet so on the outside of the envelope, he wrote a short message:
Although I was eager to see what was written, I resisted the temptation to open the letter early. I tucked it away safely until I got to camp.
Along with Treis' letter, I read the letters from my other siblings and my dad. Each of them gave me some sort of advice in regards to the world, our church, my testimony, and schooling. I remember crying over one thing or another in each of the letters as I realized just how much my family loves me and wanted the best for me. The letter from Treis was a little more poignant in my thoughts for the next few weeks. He told me I was his hero. He told me he would not hesitate to lay down his life for me. He told me how much he loved me and how proud of me he was. Me? His hero? I'm just his little sister. Still, he talked about how strong I was and how much he looked up to me.
In the year following, Treis had some struggles just as the rest of us do. I didn't see him as much as I would have liked to but I knew that he still meant everything that he said in that letter to me.
When I graduated in May of 2014, Treis was at my graduation ceremony. He, along with some of my siblings and parents, cheered as loud as they could when I walked across the stage to receive my diploma. Once the ceremony was over, we gathered outside to take pictures and I specifically asked my mom to take a picture of Treis, Owen (my nephew, Treis' son), and I.
At the time, I didn't know that this would be the last photo of Treis and I together.
Just a few weeks later, Treis was again doing his best to overcome his trials. He was being so strong and putting up with the withdrawals. I was a little bit oblivious, though. I had just graduated high school, I was dating this guy I thought was so great, and I didn't know just how much Treis was going through.
The guy I was dating stuck around for a whole 3 weeks after graduation and then he was history. The usual excuses were given and I went home crying. I tried to hide my tears when I went inside but my mom and Treis were still awake. I gave them the gist of what happened and Treis was upset. He had met this guy and got to know him a little bit, we all watched a movie or two together. When I told Treis that he had decided to date other people and whatever else, Treis' response was; "That dirtbag. Who does he think he is, just putting his arm around my sister like that? Acting like he cares about you and now he's done?"
Needless to say, Treis was protective of me. I honestly believe that he still is.
I moved on from the aforementioned guy and had been dating some other people, just getting to know them and enjoying the summer. Again, I was kind of in my own little world and I didn't know the seriousness of the situation when Treis got sick.
At first, he just wasn't feeling well. My mom took him to get checked out and after a short hospital stay one weekend, they came back home.
I remember that Sunday that he came home, I was sitting in the family room watching TV with my dad. Treis had come upstairs from his bedroom and asked if he could lay down on the couch I was sitting at. I didn't realize how ill he was and it annoyed me that I had to get up and move so that he could lay down, but I did it anyway. I decided to just go upstairs to my room and watch something by myself. Oh, how I wish I could have acted differently. I know that I can't go back in time and I know that Treis has forgiven me. I still wish I had been a little more patient with him. Yes, I was a teenager, barely 18 and I'll admit, self-centered. Regardless, I wish I had known that would be the last night he had at home.
On Monday morning, Treis' health took a turn for the worst. So much so that he had to be taken back to the hospital. My parents asked me to go to the store to get something for Treis before they left. Again, I was annoyed. I was planning on getting to work early so that I could leave sooner for the plans I had made with some friends. I was frustrated at the store and upset that I had to get this for him. Why couldn't they have stopped on their way? Looking back at how I acted that day, I can't believe myself. Yes, I still did what my parents asked but I wasn't happy about it. I should have been more patient and more understanding. I should have recognized the severity of the situation.
That following day, I came to my senses a little bit. My mom had been spending her time with Treis at the hospital and I wanted to visit them. Mom made me aware that Treis was in a medically-induced coma, though, so I could prepare myself.
When I got to the hospital, Treis still looked ill but at least he was resting. Mom explained some things that the doctors had said and I happened to be there when a nurse came in to do a quick check on Treis. The nurse held his hand for a minute, checking on his vitals or something of that sort. While doing so, Treis apparently squeezed her hand. She let us know and my mom and I smiled, knowing that he was still there with us. Before I left, my mom asked if I would like to hold his hand or give him a hug. I said no, that I wasn't sure I was ready for that. (Or something along those lines). Oh, how I wish I would have said yes. I should have just held his hand for a minute, maybe then he would have squeezed my hand too, like he had for the nurse. Instead, I said I had to get to work and I left.
Shortly after this, and more tests, it was determined that Treis needed open heart surgery. A staph infection had developed as the result of a small cut on Treis' face after stripping some wires. The tool had come back and caused a small cut which in turn did not heal correctly and resulted in the infection. Treis was transferred to a different hospital and the surgery was scheduled for the next day.
Upon coming home that night, after spending some time with friends, my brother, Talon, and his wife were still at my parent's house and both of my parents were still awake. It was shortly after midnight and they were all at the dining room table, looking solemn. I remember looking at the big clock on the wall and looking back to their faces. Something was wrong but they didn't say anything. My mom and I went outside to the porch swing and Talon followed. They both told me just how severe Treis' condition had become and how important it was that he get this surgery. Even so, they also informed me of the chance that Treis would not wake up from the surgery. I didn't want to believe them. Treis was going to be fine and be back home before we knew it. Deep down, though, I had a feeling that what they were saying was true and there was a definite possibility of Treis not coming back home.
The following morning, just before 5 AM, I woke up to my mom crying. I asked her what was wrong and she explained that she called the hospital and something had happened with Treis. I got dressed quickly and rode with her up to the hospital.
I stayed for hours that day. I don't remember how long but I do remember that I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to be at work. I didn't want to be home, either, because my mom and Treis were at the hospital. I stayed with them. On the day of surgery, all of my siblings came to the hospital. We all waited together, anxious to get the phone call with updates throughout the surgery. It was a long day but we were together and that's what mattered.
The details of how it all played out escape me, but I remember being told that the surgery was successful. The heart surgery, yes, but what about the rest of Treis' body? Was he healing like he should? After a few days full of questions and more tests than I care to count, it was determined that Treis had passed away. On that night that I came home and looked at the clock, then to my brother and parents, expecting them to say something, Treis had a seizure at the hospital. From what I've been told, it was around 15 minutes long and is more than likely the point at which Treis returned to his Heavenly home. My parents were in close contact with the doctors as they ran tests to see if Treis could breathe on his own without the help of life support but he was already gone. The decision was made that we would let Treis go, let him be free from the struggles and the illness that he endured here.
July 19th, 2014. My siblings and I all had a chance to say our goodbyes, giving Treis a hug or holding his hand before everyone gathered in the room and the doctor came in. Looking around the room, so many of my siblings had tear stained cheeks as we stood around Treis while he took his last breaths. I stayed as long as I could until it became too much. My big bro, my basketball coach, my buddy was gone.
I left the hospital and was walking out to my car when Talon called my name. He wanted to make sure I was okay and gave me a hug, assuring me that we could still play Halo and always remember Treis; that he was better now and that this is what needed to happen.
A few days passed, then a few weeks. It didn't seem real that he had moved on. I missed him.
I don't remember the circumstances, but I was going through some of my things one day and I found the letter that Treis had written me the year prior for girls camp. I read through it again and could not even get through the first few lines without crying. So much of what he wrote to me was applicable now; "I love you sis, and hope to see you real soon." "You ARE your older brother's hero." "I love and miss you."
I will cherish this letter forever.
It's been 2 years now that Treis has been gone. I miss him so much and I wish he was still here. I wish he could have met Kyle. I wish he would have been at my wedding. I wish he was here to play basketball with us and go get Dr Pepper from 7 Eleven. Instead, he's where he is supposed to be. He is taking good care of Baby E for us until she joins us on earth. I know that Treis watches over me and is one of my guardian angels. I know that he loves me and misses me and wants the best for me. I know he forgives me for my shortcomings and misunderstandings in the last weeks of his life on earth. I love him and I am so grateful to be his little sister.
Although it is a little intense, this is why letters matter so much to me. This is why I take pictures so often. They're small tokens of memories. It doesn't take long to write someone a note, letting them know you love them and appreciate them. With the technology we have these days, taking a photo is literally instantaneous and printing the photo is easier than it's ever been. I miss Treis but he has taught me so much. Not only in the time we had together on earth, but even in the past 2 years. I know that he is happy and healthy where he is. I know that I will see him again.
Until that day, I am so grateful I have this picture and this letter.
