And now, this one… Only one year and five days separate their births and they were more like twins than not until cancer changed the story.
He spent his fourth birthday sitting in a hospital, recovered from his own tonsil surgery without a mom at his side (because it happened the week after Chase’s brain surgery), and used to stand by the couch and hold out his hand to the white, screaming mess of his brother, saying “It’s okay. I will hold your hand. I am here for you.” He remembers none of these things, but I do. He doesn’t know why – to this day – the sound of Chase screaming makes his own eyes well up, but I do. His soul and blood are tied to the bald boy, whether he likes it or not.
His heart breaks with the need for justice which makes him resentful sometimes and powerfully protective all the other times. He is guilt and love; rolled into one. Like Karsten and Darcy too…there are days he’s ready to end Chase, but he will gladly slay anybody else who tries. And like his father before him, he holds so much more in that head then ever comes out of his mouth.
And this one… well, when Chase goes all you-and-what-army, he does so knowing this one stands behind him every time. If you listen closely, you will hear him say Chase’s strength and the look on his face is clear – he has no idea that Chase’s strength is because of him.
The life of a cancer sibling is often a silent, supporting role. It has to be, and they do it so well. But here, in his own words, is a little of Aidan (with some off-camera Chase interaction). This is raw, unfiltered, uncut – All heart, all sibling, all laughter, all pain, all in.
Moment by moment.
Note: The term “Bacon” is something Aidan uses to make Chase laugh when he gets angry. As you can tell from his words, Chase’s low executive functions play a big role in Aid’s relationship with him. Apparently, “Bacon” is a way to help them cope and I find I’m okay with that. 🙂