Well, I know that once again, it has been awhile since I’ve said hello on this little blog. As you might have seen, my brother passed away earlier this year, and not long after that, we had our third baby. It has been a lot to process in a relatively short time.
My brother was diagnosed with colon cancer late last summer. I haven’t written much about his illness, because it didn’t feel like my journey to share. It still doesn’t, not least because it feels impossible to put into words. But I do want to memorialize in some small way how extraordinary he was (and is), and how incredibly hard he fought, with a fortitude and courage of spirit that I truly cannot fathom. He was constantly buoyant as a general rule, full of jokes and love for everybody, but during this ordeal he was indefatigable—when I would have been bitter or angry, he was calm, steady, and even cheerful. It was a distillation of the things that made him such a light in this world and to those of us around him.
Jeremy came here to Los Angeles for in-home hospice in late April. Especially in the uncertainty of this pandemic, that he was here with Andrew and me in our home, for any time at all, is something for which I will always be grateful. He passed away in May, and I miss him each and every moment.
Fiona was born exactly one month after my brother had to leave. Although it’s kind of silly, I feel like she chose to arrive on that date, a comfort to us in the strangest and hardest of times. And on the whole, her delivery was uneventful. Maybe someone can tell me if this is typical of later pregnancies, but other than feeling absolutely enormous, I didn’t really experience any of the false alarms or discomfort that I did when we were waiting for Clara. I went to my 38-week obgyn appointment expecting to find that I wasn’t dilated at all. Instead, I was told that I was already 2 centimeters dilated and the baby could come “any time.” And then I went home and promptly went into labor. A little more than 12 hours of labor and just 15 minutes of pushing later, our beautiful Fiona was in the world, 7 pounds, 13 ounces, and 21 inches long.
Andrew has been, even more than he always is, a rock throughout this entire year. I feel words are inadequate for so much of what happened, but here, again, I’m not sure I can describe how grateful I am. He met head-on the enormous physical, mental, and emotional labor that comes from in-home hospice care, something I certainly didn’t fully understand before we went through it, and did everything from finding a hospice agency, to installing privacy curtains in our living room and nailing dry-erase boards to the wall, to checking medications, taping down nasal tubes, and learning how to inject a blood thinner, the list goes on. Without him, I don’t know how I would have navigated all of the wild emotions of this past year, and, now that Fiona is here, he is wrangling the big kids tirelessly while I nurse and cuddle our chubby little one.
Speaking of the big kids, they have also been so very wonderful. We were worried about how they’d handle being in a hospice setting, but they adjusted to all the strange changes to their routines without a single complaint, and brought much-needed sunshine around, utterly unfazed by all the medical equipment in ways that only babies can be. And on a lighter note, they have been just the best with Fiona. We thought Luke would be indifferent to yet another little sibling, and that Clara might have some trouble adjusting to not being the baby anymore, but instead they both dote like crazy on Fiona (if sometimes a little more roughly than we’d like). This morning’s refrain from Luke was, “We love our baby!”
I don’t know that I will ever not find it unspeakably unfair that my brother, so full of life, exuberance, and utter joy, went through what he did. His loss has made me fearfully aware of how fragile this life is, and how much it can change in an instant. But I am doing my best, thanks to three precious little people and my steadfast B2, to be grateful for each day we have and for the irreplaceable memories of my brother that remain.
And in that sense, it feels good, in a bittersweet way, that Fiona’s birthday is a mirror of sorts of when Jeremy passed. Going into labor, I felt a painful symmetry in so many things, as minute as watching a nurse take my blood pressure after we’d kept such a close eye on my brother’s just a few weeks before. But a friend of mine commented that he had once read that our relationships with the world and our loved ones are a part of a “constantly moving wheel, where the spirits and memories of the past push you forward to the future.” My pregnancy was always going to be tied to my brother’s illness, for obvious reasons. Yet I’m glad of that, because although I feel his physical absence so acutely, I want him to be here with us, his memories and his irrepressible spirit pushing us forward. Even more so now, he will be. He is.
Angela Palenchuk
Such a beautiful story, thank you so much for sharing something so special with this us all. Most of all congratulations on your new little bundle of gorgeousness!! So much love to you and your family.
Li
Thank you for sharing this glorious story with us. Your love comes through in your words. I’ve said prayers for your brother and you and your family & know you will be kept safe in the Lord’s hands.
Eve
Sending you so much love and grace. Grief isn’t linear nor is healing. Your tribute is so beautiful and meaningful.
Congratulations on an adorable B5!
Pam
Beautiful, thoughtful loving words. Thank you for sharing and reminding me to not take anything for granted and to live and love. My condolences
Chef Mimi
I’m so sorry about your brother. That’s just awful. What a beautiful family you have.
Diana Smith
So very sorry for you loss. Your story is a beautiful testimony to the comingling of joy and pain that can be present in life. And somehow it does roll forward, as you said. Congratulations on the arrival of b5. You have a beautiful family.
Rhonda
Just remember this… to be absent from the body is to be with the Lord. 2 Cor 5:8. The way you described your brother’s final months here on the earth, tells me he was a believer in Christ, for only those that have accepted Him have that peace in the final phase of their lives here on earth. My mother was the same way when she died from bladder cancer that had metastasized through her body, from 2000 to 2004. So many people, including her pastor, wanted her to fight it. She had accepted it. She died when she was 81 years old, had led a full life. My siblings were upset with her, but I wasn’t. I knew where she was coming from, they didn’t. They claimed to be Christians, but they don’t live it in their actions and feelings. I have the same attitude as she did… KNOWING that I know where I am going to end up, in the presence of our Lord and Savior, in the presence of our Creator, gives me such supreme peace that I have no fear of what may happen here on earth.
So, long story short, take solace in knowing that if you, too, have accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior, the Messiah, then YOU, too, will be re-united with your brother, so all is not lost forever. In love…
Sara
What a beautiful post about your family. There is something so strange about being in that strange space between birth and death, endings and new beginnings. I am seven months pregnant and recently attended the funeral of one of my oldest friends, who we lost in just a matter of months to pancreatic cancer. Like your brother he was endlessly positive and patient til the very end, and though I’m glad he is no longer suffering, I’m not quite sure I will ever wrap my head around him leaving us so young and so soon. I’m glad you’re finding ways to honor your brother’s memory. I hope this time at home with your new little girl is restful and your family continues to heal.
Gabriel
so many tears as I read this beautiful tribute to your brother ❤️ Thank you for sharing and continued prayers that peace is with you and the memories last forever
Joan miller
Thank you so much for allowing your fans a glimpse into the inner sanctum of your world. You are an inspiration and I’m glad you filled us in with what’s been happening in your life. Congratulations on the new addition, and my condolences on your loss.
E
So good to see your post this morning. I can’t think of a better summary title — Grief and Joy. I’m so sorry for the loss of your brother, and I’m so touched by the birth and photos of your precious little daughter. What a beautiful family you have!
Nancy seto
Cynthia, I’m so sorry to hear of your brother’s passing. He sounds like a wonderful person and it’s terrible when a vibrant life is cut short. I love the quote your friend gave you about relationships being a constantly moving wheel. How lovely and incredibly apt in this situation. Thank you for sharing – I know it must have been difficult to write but hopefully a bit cathartic too. Your kids are beautiful, Bowl No. 2 is a rock star and I’m sending you all my love, my friend!
Lorie Braam
your brother was blessed having you for a sister. Enjoy those beautiful babies. Time will pass much too quickly.
Colleen Schneider
Thank you for your bravery in sharing this tough and special family time. Your brother will never be forgotten. His example will have a positive effect on you all of your life. Congrautulations on your beautiful Fiona. Such a beautiful family. Love to you all. Wishing you the very best!
Sis Adger
I love this expression of your experiences and your thoughts of your family. I have tried 3 times to write something here of the losses I’ve experienced this past year but I can’t bring myself to put it down – this is the place for your story and for me to just tell you that my heart is with you in understanding, compassion, sorrow and thankfulness, and it did me good to read what you wrote. XO
Caroline Campbell-Charles
Hello. I can feel your pain. My daughter died of breast cancer on September 12, 2018 at 10:47 a.m. At 9:00 on the same morning, her son had a baby boy whom she never met. We continue to grieve for her. On every birthday our Princeton celebrates, we are reminded of the loss of my beautiful daughter. Her two children and I will forever have a bittersweet day on September 12th. I am sorry for your loss. Those beautiful babies will bring you comfort as your brothers spirit lives on in Fiona. God bless your family!
JUlienne
Longtime reader here. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Ali
Cynthia, I’m so sorry to hear about your brother. Sending you and your beautiful family lots of love and strength 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
Molly
I am so sorry for you and your families loss. I can’t imagine the pain you feel. Sharing your love for your brother is so heartwarming and tender, thank you for sharing. Sending love to you family.
juliet
what a moving tribute and what sweet sweet photos. thank you for these words, sending love.
deb
such a sweet baby girl! and it’s wonderful the love her older brother and sister show her.
i am truly sorry about your brother.
he will always be remembered.
deb
Vanessa
Children really are markers of time. Thank you for sharing the heaviness and lightness of your heart. Much love to you and your sweet family, Cynthia. The void of your brother’s departure will be with you, but may the memories of his light and love stay closer.
JL
Where did you get the totoro plushie in the thumbnail photo for Baby posts?
Don
Great Blog! I came to your site for the gochujang eggs and stayed for the Blog. I spent a year in Korea almost 50 years ago but have just recently gotten into Korean cooking courtesy of Maangchi and Aaron & Claire on YouTube. Blessings to you and your bowl family.