Trying to say

Posting to this blog is probably the most difficult task to start. I don't have trouble writing about anything I'm thinking about, but writing about Brian and what his life meant to me, what we went through caring for him and how much I miss him stirs too many memories and sorrows inside of me. It changes my mood completely, makes my disposition too soleum and handling my responsibilities difficult.

Even though Brian died almost nine year in April, I don't think the thought of him will ever leave me. I've lost my both my parents, my brother, and a dear friend, but I carried my son in my body and I remember his birth as though it was yesterday. After his accident, and months after being in the VA hospital in LA, I couldn't stand how horrible they treated my son, and I, with the support of our family, everyone, wanted Brian home. Brian had severe brain damange and respiratory problems, he was completely disabled. Brian was 6 ft 4 and slim - long and lean. He was on a 3 - 4 consciencous level and couldn't talk or see.

We brought him home from the VA hospital on August 15th, 1991. That day was a feast day of Our Lady, and two days later was my birthday.

This is a long story and it is late as I began this, so I'll stop now. There's more to tell that happened between the time we received the call from Brian's commanding officer on the Army base in Stuttgart, Germany, that on November 8th, 1989, Brian had an accident and the day we brought him home.