Omar, a Special Kind of Brother
By Geraldine Fuenmayor, Calgary, Canada
My brother Omar was working for Amazon, delivering packages. He knew he was at risk of contagion, so he told my mom at the end of March that he would not visit her until COVID was over. My mom did not like it, but she knew it was for her protection. On April the 19th, in the morning, my brother sent me a melody he played on his keyboard. After I got it, I called him, since he used to check on me on Sundays. When he answered the phone, he sounded like he had a cold. I asked him about it, and he said that he had been having this cold for a week, but that he was feeling better.
That night, I called my mom, and she told me that my brother and his wife were taken to the hospital. At 2 am, his wife called me saying that she was sent home, but my brother needed to stay. The next day, he finally answered his cellphone, and he turned on the video camera. He was in isolation, lying on his bed, surrounded by cables, attached to a bunch of apparatus. He was receiving oxygen.
He said, “Please talk to me, and I will answer with my head, I do not have enough air to talk.” I asked if they were treating him well, if they gave him diabetes medicine, and what was coming next. He said, “Tonight they are taking me to the intensive care unit, they are attaching me to a ventilator.” After that, I just made him laugh, as he used to do when I was a kid and had my asthma attacks. We chatted for around 20 minutes, and that was the last time I saw him alive. After that he was intubated, and nurses and doctors kept us informed about his status, until that Friday, May 1, when I got a phone call saying that he had passed.
He was a special kind of brother, the sweetest one. He made me feel loved and protected. For some birthdays, he sent me flowers, and for others, teddy bears, even when I was in my forties. If I could change anything in the past, I would be less busy with work, and I would try to be more available for him and for my family.
I am going to miss you, Omy.